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A  DAUGHTER  OF 
THE  SIOUX 


A  Tale^.  of  the  Indian  Frontier 


BY 

GENERAL    CHARLES    KING  ^  \  kH 

AUTHOR  OF   "the  COLONEL's   DAUGHTER,"   "FORT  FRAYNE," 
**  AN  ARMY  WIFE,"   ETC.,   ETC, 


•*  He  is  bred  out  of  that  bloody  strain 
That  haunted  us  in  our  familiar  paths.** 

King  Henry  V, 

ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

FREDERIC    REMINGTON 

and 

EDWIN    WILLARD    DEMING 


GROSSET     &     DUNLAP 
PUBLISHERS    :    NEW   YORK 


^-^•=1 


Copyright,  190s, 

BY 

fHE   HOBART  COMPANY. 


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d  Daughter  0^  Published 

the  Sioux  Mmrek  is^  tqa$ 


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A   DAUGHTER  OF  THE 
SIOUX 

CHAPTER  I 

FORESHADOWED    EVENTS 

THE  major  commanding  looked  up  from  the  morn- 
ing report  and  surveyed  the  post  adjutant  with 
something  of  perturbation,  if  not  annoyance,  in 
his  grim,  gray  eyes.  For  the  fourth  time  that  week  had 
Lieutenant  Field  requested  permission  to  be  absent  for 
several  hours.  The  major  knew  just  why  the  junior 
wished  to  go  and  where.  The  major  knew  just  why  he 
wished  him  not  to  go,  but  saw  fit  to  name  almost  any 
other  than  the  real  reason  when,  with  a  certain  awkward 
hesitancy  he  began : 

"  W — ell,  is  the  post  return  ready  ?  " 

"  It  will  be,  sir,  in  abundant  time,"  was  the  prompt 
reply. 

"  You  know  they  sent  it  back  for  correction  last 
month,"  hazarded  the  commander. 

"  And  you  know,  sir,  the  error  was  not  mine,"  was  the 
instant  rejoinder,  so  quick,  sharp  and  positive  as  to  carry 
it  at  a  bound  to  the  verge  of  disrespect,  and  the  keen,  blue 
eyes  of  the  young  soldier  gazed,  frank  and  fearless,  into 

9 


10  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

the  heavily  ambushed  grays  of  the  veteran  in  the  chair. 
It  made  the  latter  wince  and  stir  uneasily. 

"  If  there's  one  thing  I  hate,  Field,  it  is  to  have  my 
papers  sent  back  by  some  whipsnapper  of  a  clerk,  inviting 
attention  to  this  or  that  error,  and  I  expect  my  adjutant 
to  see  to  it  that  they  don't." 

"  Your  adjutant  does  see  to  it,  sir.  I'm  willing  to  bet 
a  month's  pay  fewer  errors  have  been  found  in  the 
papers  of  Fort  Frayne  than  any  post  in  the  Department 
of  the  Platte.  General  Williams  told  you  as  much  when 
you  were  in  Omaha." 

The  major  fairly  wriggled  in  his  cane-bottomed  whirli- 
gig. What  young  Field  said  was  true,  and  the  major 
knew  it.  He  knew,  moreover,  there  wasn't  a  more  pains- 
taking post  adjutant  from  the  Missouri  to  the  mountains. 
He  knew  their  monthly  reports — "  returns  "  as  the  regu- 
lations call  them — were  referred  to  by  a  model  adjutant 
general  as  model  papers.  He  knew  it  was  due  to  young 
Field's  care  and  attention,  and  he  knew  he  thought  all  the 
world  of  that  young  gentleman.  It  was  just  because  he 
thought  so  much  of  him  he  was  beginning  to  feel  that  it 
was  high  time  to  put  a  stop  to  something  that  was  going 
on.  But,  it  was  a  delicate  matter;  a  woman  was  the 
matter;  and  he  hadn't  the  moral  courage  to  go  at  it  the 
straightforward  way.  He  "  whip  sawed "  again. 
Thrumming  on  the  desk  with  his  lean,  bony  fingers  he 
began : — 

"  If  I  let  my  adjutant  out  so  much,  what's  to  prevent 
other  youngsters  asking  similar  indulgence  ?  " 


FORESHADOWED  EVENTS  ii 

The  answer  came  like  the  crack  of  a  whip : — 
"  Nothing,  sir ;  and  far  better  would  it  be  for  every- 
body concerned  if  they  spent  more  hours  in  the  saddle 
and  fewer  at  the  store." 

This  was  too  much  for  the  one  listener  in  the  room. 
With  something  like  the  sound  of  a  suppressed  sneeze,  a 
tall,  long-legged  captain  of  cavalry  started  up  from  his 
chair,  an  outspread  newspaper  still  full-stretched  between 
him  and  the  desk  of  the  commander,  and,  thus  hidden 
as  to  his  face,  sidled  sniggering  off  to  the  nearest  window. 
Young  Field  had  fearlessly,  if  not  almost  impudently,  hit 
the  nail  on  the  head,  and  metaphorically  rapped  the 
thrumming  fingers  of  his  superior  officer.  Some  com- 
manders would  have  raged  and  sent  the  daring  youngster 
right  about  in  arrest.  Major  Webb  knew  just  what 
Field  referred  to, — knew  that  the  fascinations  of  pool, 
"  pitch  "  and  poker  held  just  about  half  his  commissioned 
force  at  all  "  off  duty  "  hours  of  the  day  or  night  hanging 
about  the  officers'  club  room  at  the  post  trader's;  knew, 
moreover,  that  while  the  adjutant  never  wasted  a  mo- 
ment over  cards  or  billiards,  he,  the  post  commander,  had 
many  a  time  taken  a  hand  or  a  cue  and  wagered  his 
dollars  against  those  of  his  devoted  associates.  They  all 
loved  him.  There  wasn't  '^  a  mean  streak  in  his  whole 
system,"  said  every  soldier  at  Fort  Frayne.  He  had  a 
capital  record  as  a  volunteer — a  colonel  and,  later,  brigade 
commander  in  the  great  war.  He  had  the  brevet  of 
brigadier  general  of  volunteers,  but  repudiated  any  title 
beyond  that  of  his  actual  rank  in  the  regulars.    He  wa? 


12  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

that  rara  avis — a  bachelor  field  officer,  and  a  bird  to  be 
brought  down  if  feminine  witchery  could  do  it.  He  was 
truthful,  generous,  high-minded,  brave — a  man  who  pre- 
ferred to  be  of  and  with  his  subordinates  rather  than 
above  them — to  rule  through  affection  and  regard  rather 
than  the  stern  standard  of  command.  He  was  gentle  and 
courteous  alike  to  officers  and  the  rank  and  file,  though 
he  feared  no  man  on  the  face  of  the  globe.  He  was 
awkward,  bungling  and  overwhelmingly,  lavishly,  kind 
and  thoughtful  in  his  dealings  with  the  womenfolk  of 
the  garrison,  for  he  stood  in  awe  of  the  entire  sisterhood. 
He  could  ride  like  a  centaur;  he  couldn't  dance  worth  a 
cent.  He  could  snuff  a  candle  with  his  Colt  at  twenty 
paces  and  couldn't  hit  a  croquet  ball  to  save  his  soul.  His 
deep-set  gray  eyes,  under  their  tangled  thatch  of  brown, 
gazed  straight  into  the  face  of  every  man  on  the  Platte, 
soldier,  cowboy,  Indian  or  halfbreed,  but  fell  abashed  if 
a  laundress  looked  at  him.  Billy  Ray,  captain  of  the 
sorrel  troop  and  the  best  light  rider  in  Wyoming,  was  the 
only  man  he  ever  allowed  to  straddle  a  beautiful  thor- 
oughbred mare  he  had  bought  in  Kentucky,  but,  bad 
hands  or  good,  there  wasn't  a  riding  woman  at  Frayne 
who  hadn't  backed  Lorna  time  and  again,  because  to  a 
woman  the  major  simply  couldn't  say  no. 

And  though  his  favorite  comrades  at  the  post  were 
captains  like  Blake  and  Billy  Ray,  married  men  both 
whose  wives  he  worshipped,  the  major's  rugged  heart 
went  out  especially  to  Beverly  Field,  his  boy  adjutant,  a 
lad  who  came  to  them  from  West  Point  only  three  years 


FORESHADOWED  EVENTS  13 

before  the  autumn  this  story  opens,  a  young  fellow  full  of 
high  health,  pluck  and  principle — a  tip  top  soldier,  said 
everybody  from  the  start,  until,  as  Gregg  and  other  growl- 
ers began  to  declaim,  the  major  completely  spoiled  him. 
Here,  three  years  only  out  of  military  leadingstrings,  he 
was  a  young  cock  of  the  walk,  "  too  dam'  independent 
for  a  second  lieutenant,"  said  the  officers'  club  element 
of  the  command,  men  like  Gregg,  Wilkins,  Crane  and  a 
few  of  their  following.  *'  The  keenest  young  trooper  in 
the  regiment,"  said  Blake  and  Ray,  who  were  among  its 
keenest  captains,  and  never  a  cloud  had  sailed  across  the 
serene  sky  of  their  friendship  and  esteem  until  this  glori- 
ous September  of  188-,  when  Nanette  Flower,  a  brilliant, 
beautiful  brunette  came  a  visitor  to  old  Fort  Frayne. 

And  it  was  on  her  account  the  major  would,  could  he 
have  seen  the  way,  said  no  to  the  adjutant's  request  to  be 
absent  again.  On  her  account  and  that  of  one  other,  for 
that  request  meant  another  long  morning  in  saddle  with 
Miss  Flower,  another  long  morning  in  which  "  the 
sweetest  girl  in  the  garrison,"  so  said  they  all,  would  go 
about  her  daily  duties  with  an  aching  heart.  There  was 
no  woman  at  Fort  Frayne  who  did  not  know  that  Esther 
Dade  thought  all  the  world  of  Beverly  Field.  There  was 
only  one  man  who  apparently  had  no  inkling  of  it — 
Beverly  Field  himself. 

She  was  the  only  daughter  of  a  veteran  officer,  a  cap- 
tain of  infantry,  who  at  the  age  of  fifty,  after  having 
held  a  high  command  in  the  volunteers  during  the  civil 
war,  was  still  meekly  doing  duty  as  a  company  officer 


14  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

of  regulars  nearly  two  decades  after.  She  had  been  care- 
fully reared  by  a  most  loving  and  thoughtful  mother, 
even  in  the  crude  old  days  of  the  army,  when  its  fighting 
force  was  scattered  in  small  detachments  all  over  the  wide 
frontier,  and  men,  and  women,  too,  lived  on  soldier 
rations,  eked  out  with  game,  and  dwelt  in  tents  or  ram- 
shackle, one-storied  huts,  "  built  by  the  labor  of  troops." 
At  twelve  she  had  been  placed  at  school  in  the  far  East, 
while  her  father  enjoyed  a  two  years'  tour  on  recruiting 
service,  and  there,  under  the  care  of  a  noble  woman  who 
taught  her  girls  to  be  women  indeed — not  vapid  votaries 
of  pleasure  and  fashion,  Esther  spent  five  useful  years, 
coming  back  to  her  fond  father's  soldier  roof  a  winsome 
picture  of  girlish  health  and  grace  and  comeliness — a  girl 
who  could  ride,  walk  and  run  if  need  be,  who  could  bake 
and  cook,  mend  and  sew,  cut,  fashion  and  make  her  own 
simple  wardrobe;  who  knew  algebra,  geometry  and 
"  trig "  quite  as  well  as,  and  history,  geography  and 
grammar  far  better  than,  most  of  the  young  West  Point- 
ers ;  a  girl  who  spoke  her  own  tongue  with  accuracy  and 
was  not  badly  versed  in  French;  a  girl  who  performed 
fairly  well  on  the  piano  and  guitar,  but  who  sang  full- 
throated,  rejoiceful,  exulting  like  the  lark — the  soulful 
music  that  brought  delight  to  her  ageing  father,  half  crip- 
pled by  the  wounds  of  the  war  days,  and  to  the  mother 
who  so  devotedly  loved  and  carefully  planned  for  her. 
Within  a  month  from  her  graduation  at  Madame  Piatt's 
she  had  become  the  darling  of  Fort  Frayne,  the  pet  of 
many  a  household,  the  treasure  of  her  own.    With  other 


FORESHADOWED  EVENTS  15 

young  gallants  of  the  garrison,  Beveriy  Field  had  been 
prompt  to  call,  prompt  to  be  her  escort  when  dance  or 
drive,  ride  or  picnic  was  planned  in  her  honor,  especially 
the  ride,  for  Mr.  Adjutant  Field  loved  the  saddle,  the  open 
prairie  or  the  bold,  undulating  bluffs.  But  Field  was  the 
busiest  man  at  the  post.  Other  youngsters,  troop  or  com- 
pany subalterns,  had  far  more  time  at  their  disposal,  and 
begged  for  rides  and  dances,  strolls  and  sports  which  the 
post  adjutant  was  generally  far  too  busy  to  claim.  It  was 
Esther  who  brought  lawn  tennis  to  Frayne  and  found 
eager  pupils  of  both  sexes,  but  Field  had  been  the  first 
to  meet  and  welcome  her ;  had  been  for  a  brief  time  at  the 
start  her  most  constant  cavalier.  Then,  as  others  began 
to  feel  the  charm  of  her  frank,  cordial,  joyous  manner, 
and  learned  to  read  the  beauty  that  beamed  in  her  clear, 
truthful  eyes  and  winsome,  yet  not  beautiful  face,  they 
became  assiduous  in  turn, — two  of  them  almost  distress- 
ingly so, — and  she  could  not  wound  them  by  refusals. 
Then  came  a  fortnight  in  which  her  father  sat  as  a  member 
of  a  court-martial  down  at  old  Fort  Laramie,  where 
were   the   band,   headquarters   and   four  troops   of   the 

th,  and  Captain  and  Mrs.  Freeman,  who  were  there 

stationed,  begged  that  Mrs.  Dade  and  Esther  should  come 
and  visit  them  during  the  session  of  the  court.  There 
would  be  all  manner  of  army  gaieties  and  a  crowd  of 
outside  officers,  and,  as  luck  would  have  it,  Mr.  Field 
was  ordered  thither  as  a  witness  in  two  important  cases. 
The  captain  and  his  good  wife  went  by  stage ;  Esther  and 
Beverly  rode  every  inch  of  the  way  in  saddle,  camping 


1 6  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

over  night  with  their  joyous  Httle  party  at  LaBonte. 
Then  came  a  lovely  week  at  Laramie,  during  which  Mr. 
Field  had  little  to  do  but  devote  himself  to,  and  dance 
with,  Esther,  and  when  his  final  testimony  was  given 
and  he  returned  to  his  station,  and  not  until  then,  Esther 
Dade  discovered  that  life  had  little  interest  or  joy  without 
him ;  but  Field  rode  back  unknowing,  and  met  at  Frayne, 
before  Esther  Dade's  return,  a  girl  who  had  come  almost 
unheralded,  making  the  journey  over  the  Medicine  Bow 
from  Rock  Springs  on  the  Union  Pacific  in  the  comfort- 
able carriage  of  old  Bill  Hay,  the  post  trader,  escorted 
by  that  redoubtable  woman,  Mrs.  Bill  Hay,  and  within 
the  week  of  her  arrival  Nanette  Flower  was  the  toast 
of  the  bachelors'  mess,  the  talk  of  every  household  at 
Fort  Frayne. 

And  well  she  might  be.  Dark  and  lustrous  were  her 
eyes;  black,  luxuriant  and  lustrous  was  her  hair;  dark, 
rich  and  lustrous  her  radiant  beauty.  In  contour  her  face 
was  well  nigh  faultless.  It  might  have  been  called  beau- 
tiful indeed  but  for  the  lips,  or  something  about  the 
mouth,  that  in  repose  had  not  a  soft  or  winsome  line, 
but  then  it  was  never  apparently  in  repose.  Smiles,  sun- 
shine, animation,  rippling  laughter,  flashing,  even,  white 
teeth — these  were  what  one  noted  when  in  talk  with  Miss 
Flower.  There  was  something  actually  radiant,  almost 
dazzling,  about  her  face.  Her  figure,  though  petite,  was 
exquisite,  and  women  marked  with  keen  appreciation,  if 
not  envy,  the  style  and  finish  of  her  varied  and  various 
gowns.  Six  trunks,  said  Bill  Hay's  boss  teamster,  had  been 


FORESHADOWED  EVENTS  17 

trundled  over  the  range  from  Rawlins,  not  to  mention 
a  box  containing  her  little  ladyship's  beautiful  English 
side-saddle,  Melton  bridle  and  other  equine  impedimenta. 
Did  Miss  Flower  like  to  ride?  She  adored  it,  and  Bill 
Hay  had  a  bay  half  thoroughbred  that  could  discount 
the  major's  mare  'cross  country.  All  Frayne  was  out  to 
see  her  start  for  her  first  ride  with  Beverly  Field,  and  all 
Frayne  reluctantly  agreed  that  sweet  Essie  Dade  could 
never  sit  a  horse  over  ditch  or  hurdle  with  the  superb 
grace  and  unconcern  displayed  by  the  daring,  dashing 
girl  who  had  so  suddenly  become  the  centre  of  garrison 
interest.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life  Mrs.  Bill  Hay 
knew  what  it  was  to  hold  the  undivided  attention  of  army 
society,  for  every  woman  at  Fort  Frayne  was  wild  to 
know  all  about  the  beautiful  newcomer,  and  only  one 
could  tell. 

Hay,  the  trader,  had  prospered  in  his  long  years  on 
the  frontier,  first  as  trader  among  the  Sioux,  later  as  sut- 
ler, and  finally,  when  Congress  abolished  that  title,  substi- 
tuting therefor  the  euphemism,  without  material  clog 
upon  the  perquisites,  as  post  trader  at  Fort  Frayne.  No 
one  knew  how  much  he  was  worth,  for  while  apparently  a 
most  open-hearted,  whole-souled  fellow.  Hay  was  reticence 
itself  when  his  fortunes  or  his  family  were  matters  of 
question  or  comment.  He  had  long  been  married,  and  Mrs. 
Hay,  when  at  the  post,  was  a  social  sphinx, — kind-hearted, 
charitable,  lavish  to  the  soldiers'  wives  and  children,  and 
devotion  itself  to  the  families  of  the  officers  when  sick- 
ness and  trouble  came,  as  come  in  the  old  days  they  too 


i»  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

often  did.  It  was  she  who  took  poor  Ned  Robinson's 
young  widow  and  infant  all  the  way  to  Cheyenne  when 
the  Sioux  butchered  the  luckless  little  hunting  party  down 
by  Laramie  Peak.  It  was  she  who  nursed  Captain  For- 
rest's wife  and  daughter  through  ten  weeks  of  typhoid, 
and,  with  her  own  means,  sent  them  to  the  seashore,  while 
the  husband  and  father  was  far  up  on  the  Yellowstone, 
cut  off  from  all  communication  in  the  big  campaign  of 
^"^6.  It  was  she  who  built  the  little  chapel  and  decked  and 
dressed  it  for  Easter  and  Christmas,  despite  the  fact  that 
she  herself  had  been  baptized  in  the  Roman  Catholic 
faith.  It  was  she  who  went  at  once  to  every  woman  in 
the  garrison  whose  husband  was  ordered  out  on  scout 
or  campaign,  proffering  aid  and  comfort,  despite  the  fact 
long  whispered  in  the  garrisons  of  the  Platte  country,  that 
in  the  old,  old  days  she  had  far  more  friends  among  the 
red  men  than  the  white.  That  could  well  be,  because  in 
those  days  white  men  were  few  and  far  between.  Every 
one  had  heard  the  story  that  it  was  through  her  the  news 
of  the  massacre  at  Fort  Phil  Kearny  was  made  known 
to  the  post  commander,  for  she  could  speak  the  dialects 
of  both  the  Arapahoe  and  the  Sioux,  and  had  the  sign 
language  of  the  Plains  veritably  at  her  fingers'  ends. 
There  were  not  lacking  those  who  declared  that  Indian 
blood  ran  in  her  veins — that  her  mother  was  an  Ogallalla 
squaw  and  her  father  a  French  Canadian  fur  trapper,  a 
story  to  which  her  raven  black  hair  and  brows,  her  deep, 
dark  eyes  and  somewhat  swarthy  complexion  gave  no 
little  color.    But,  long  years  before,  Bill  Hay  had  taker^ 


FORESHADOWED  EVENTS  19 

her  East,  where  he  had  relatives,  and  where  she  studied 
under  excellent  masters,  returning  to  him  summer  after 
summer  with  more  and  more  of  refinement  in  manner,  and 
so  much  of  style  and  fashion  in  dress  that  her  annual 
advent  had  come  to  be  looked  upon  as  quite  the  event 
of  the  season,  even  by  women  of  the  social  position  of 
Mrs.  Ray  and  Mrs.  Blake,  the  recognized  leaders  among 

the  young  matrons  of  the th  Cavalry,  and  by  gentle 

Mrs.  Dade,  to  whom  every  one  looked  up  in  respect, — 
almost  in  reverence.  Despite  the  mystery  about  her 
antecedents  there  was  every  reason  why  Mrs.  Hay  should 
be  held  in  esteem  and  affection.  Bill  Hay  himself  was 
a  diamond  in  the  rough, — square,  sturdy,  uncompromising, 
generous  and  hospitable ;  his  great  pride  and  glory  was  his 
wife;  his  one  great  sorrow  that  their  only  child  had  died 
almost  in  infancy.  His  solecisms  in  syntax  and  society 
were  many.  He  was  given  at  times  to  profanity,  and  at 
others,  when  madame  was  away,  to  draw  poker ;  but  offi- 
cers and  men  alike  proclaimed  him  a  man  of  mettle  and 
never  hesitated  to  go  to  him  when  in  financial  straits,  sure 
of  unusurious  aid.  But,  even  had  this  not  been  the  case, 
the  popularity  of  his  betterhalf  would  have  carried  him 
through,  for  there  was  hardly  a  woman  at  Frayne  to 
speak  of  her  except  in  terms  of  genuine  respect.  Mrs. 
Hay  was  truth  telling,  sympathetic,  a  peacemaker,  a  reso- 
lute opponent  of  gossip  and  scandal  of  every  kind,  a 
woman  who  minded  her  own  business  and  was  only 
mildly  insistent  that  others  should  do  likewise.  She  de- 
clined all  overtures  leading  to  confidences  as  to  her  past, 


20  A  DAUGHTER  OP  THE  SIOUX 

and  demanded  recognition  only  upon  the  standard  of  the 
present,  which  was  unimpeachable. 

All  the  same  it  came  something  like  a  shock  to  society 
at  Frayne  that,  when  she  appeared  at  the  post  this  beau- 
tiful autumn  of  188-,  nearly  three  months  later  than  the 
usual  time,  she  should  be  accompanied  by  this  brilliant 
and  beautiful  girl  of  whom  no  one  of  their  number  had 
previously  heard,  and  whom  she  smilingly,  confidently 
presented  as,  "  My  niece.  Miss  Flower." 

There  was  a  dance  the  night  the  Dades  got  home  from 
Laramie.  Nearly  all  day  long  had  they  driven  in  the 
open  buckboard  over  the  rough,  winding  road  along  the 
Platte,  and  Mrs.  Dade  was  far  too  tired  to  think  of  going, 
but  Esther  was  so  eager  that  her  father  put  aside  his 
precious  paper,  tucked  her  under  his  arm  and  trudged 
cheerily  away  across  the  parade  toward  the  bright  lights 
of  the  hop  room.  They  had  a  fairly  good  string  orchestra 
at  Frayne  that  year,  and  one  of  Strauss's  most  witching 
waltes — "  Sounds  from  the  Vienna  Woods  " — had  just 
been  begun  as  father  and  daughter  entered.  A  dozen 
people,  men  and  women  both,  saw  them  and  noted  what 
followed.  With  bright,  almost  dilated,  eyes,  and  a  sweet, 
warm  color  mantling  her  smiling  face,  Esther  stood  gaz- 
ing about  the  room,  nodding  blithely  as  she  caught  the 
glance  of  many  a  friend,  yet  obviously  searching  for  still 
another.  Then  of  a  sudden  they  saw  the  bonny  face  light 
up  with  joy  uncontrollable,  for  Mr.  Field  came  bounding 
in  at  the  side  door,  opening  from  the  veranda  of  the  ad- 
jutant's office.     He  saw  her;  smiled  joyous  greeting  as 


The  Major  Sought  to  Block  that  Mornings  Ride  in  Vain. 


FORESHADOWED  EVENTS  21 

he  came  swiftly  toward  her;  then  stopped  short  as  a 
girl  in  black  grenadine  dropped  the  arm  of  her  cavalier, 
the  officer  with  whom  she  was  promenading,  and  with- 
out a  moment's  hesitation,  placed  her  left  hand,  fan^ 
bearing,  close  to  the  shoulder  knot  on  his  stalwart  right 
arm,  her  black-gloved  right  in  his  white-kidded  left,  and 
instantly  they  went  gliding  away  together,  he  nodding 
half  in  whimsical  apology,  half  in  merriment,  over  the 
black  spangled  shoulder,  and  the  roseate  light  died  slowly 
from  the  sweet,  smiling  face — the  smile  itself  seemed 
slowly  freezing — as  the  still  dilated  eyes  followed 
the  graceful  movements  of  the  couple,  slowly,  har- 
moniously winding  and  reversing  about  the  waxen 
floor.  Even  at  the  Point  she  had  never  seen  more 
beautiful  dancing.  Even  when  her  stanchest  friend,  Mrs. 
Blake,  pounced  upon  her  with  fond,  anxious,  welcoming 
words,  and  Mrs.  Ray,  seeing  it  all,  broke  from  her  part- 
ner's encircling  arm,  and  sped  to  add  her  greeting,  the 
child  could  hardly  regain  self-control,  and  one  loving- 
hearted  woman  cried  herself  to  sleep  that  night  for  the 
woe  that  had  come  into  the  soft  and  tender  eyes  which 
had  first  beamed  with  joy  at  sight  of  Beverly  Field,  then 
filled  with  sudden  dread  immeasurable. 

But  the  major  sought  to  block  that  morning  ride  in 
vain.  The  impetuous  will  of  the  younger  soldier  prevailed, 
as  he  might  have  known  it  would,  and  from  the  rear 
gallery  of  his  quarters,  with  his  strong  fieldglass,  Major 
Webb  watched  the  pair  fording  the  Platte  far  up  beyond 
Pyramid   Butte.     "  Going   over  to  that  damned   Sioux 


22  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

village  again,"  he  swore  between  his  set  teeth.  "  That 
makes  the  third  time  she's  headed  him  there  this  week," 
and  with  strange  annoyance  at  heart  he  turned  away  to 
seek  comfort  in  council  with  his  stanch  henchman,  Captain 
Ray,  when  the  orderly  came  bounding  up  the  steps  with  a 
telegraphic  despatch  which  the  major  opened,  read, 
turned  a  shade  grayer  and  whistled  low. 

"  My  compliments  to  Captains  Blake  and  Ray,"  said  he, 
to  the  silent  young  soldier,  standing  attention  at  the 
doorstep,  *'  and  say  I  should  be  glad  to  see  them  here  at 
once." 

That  night  the  sentries  had  just  called  off  half  past 
one  when  there  was  some  commotion  at  the  guard-house. 
A  courier  had  ridden  in  post  haste  from  the  outlying  sta- 
tion of  Fort  Beecher,  far  up  under  the  lee  of  the  Big 
Horn  range.  The  corporal  of  the  guard  took  charge  of 
his  reeking  horse,  while  the  sergeant  led  the  messenger  to 
the  commander's  quarters.  The  major  was  already  awake 
and  half  dressed.  "  Call  the  adjutant,"  was  all  he  said,  on 
reading  the  despatch,  and  the  sergeant  sped  away.  In 
less  than  five  minutes  he  was  back. 

"  I  could  get  no  answer  to  my  knock  or  ring,  sir,  so  I 
searched  the  house.     The  adjutant  isn't  there  I " 


CHAPTER  II 

ABSENT    FROM     DUTY 

FOR  a  moment  the  major  stood  in  silence;  then, 
briefly  saying,  "  Call  Captain  Ray,"  turned  again 
to  the  dimly  lighted  hallway  of  his  commodious 
quarters,  (the  women  thought  it  such  a  shame  there 
should  be  no  "  lady  of  the  house  "  for  the  largest  and 
finest  of  the  long  line  known  as  "  Officers'  Row  ")  while 
the  sergeant  of  the  guard  scurried  away  to  the  soldier 
home  of  the  senior  cavalry  captain  on  duty  at  the  post. 
When  the  major  again  came  forth  his  field  glasses  were 
in  his  hand  and  he  had  hurried  down  the  steps  and  out 
into  the  broad  sheen  of  the  moonlight  when  he  caught 
sight  of  the  courier  seated  on  the  horseblock  at  the  gate, 
wearily  leaning  his  head  upon  his  gauntleted  hand. 
Webb  stopped  short: 

**  Come  right  in  here,  my  lad,"  he  cried,  "  I  want  to 
speak  with  you,"  and,  followed  slowly  by  the  soldier,  he 
entered  his  parlor,  and  whirled  an  easy  chair  in  front  of 
the  open  fireplace.  "  Sit  right  down  there  now,  and  I'll  be 
with  you  in  a  minute,"  he  added;  bustled  into  the  rear 
room  and  presently  reappeared  with  a  decanter  and  glass ; 
poured  out  a  stiff  tot  of  Monongahela ;  "  A  little  water  ?  " 

23 


24  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

he  asked,  as  the  trooper's  eye  brightened  gratefully.  A 
little  water  was  added  and  off  came  the  right  hand  gaunt- 
let. "  I  drink  the  major's  health  and  long  life  to  him," 
said  the  soldier,  gulping  down  the  fluid  without  so  much 
as  a  wink.  Then,  true  to  his  training,  set  down  the  glass 
and  stood  strictly  at  attention. 

"  You've  had  nothing  to  eat  since  yesterday  morning, 
I'll  be  bound,"  said  Webb.  "  Now,  I've  got  to  see  some  of 
my  officers  at  once.  You  make  yourself  at  home  here. 
You'll  find  cold  beef,  bread,  cheese,  pickles,  milk,  if  you 
care  for  it,  and  pie  right  there  in  the  pantry.  Take  the 
lamp  in  with  you  and  help  yourself.  If  you  want  another 
nip,  there's  the  decanter.  You've  made  splendid  time. 
Did  you  meet  no  Indians  ?  " 

"  Not  one,  sir,  but  I  saw  smokes  at  sunset  out  toward 
Eagle  Butte." 

**  Your  name — I  see  you  belong  to  Captain  Truscott's 
troop." 

"  Kennedy,  sir ;  and  I  thank  the  major." 

"  Then  I'll  leave  you  in  charge  until  you've  had  your 
fill,"  said  the  commander.  "  Then  go  over  to  *  F  '  Troop's 
quarters  and  get  a  bed.  Tell  anybody  who  comes  I've 
gone  to  the  flagstaff."  With  that  the  major  stalked  from 
the  room,  followed  by  the  Irishman's  adoring  eyes.  A 
moment  later  he  stood  by  the  tall  white  staff  at  the  edge 
of  the  northward  bluff,  at  whose  feet  the  river  swept  by  in 
musical  murmurings.  There  he  quickly  focussed  his 
glass,  and  gazed  away  westward  up  the  Platte  to  where 
but  the  evening  before  a  score  of  Indian  lodges  dotted  the 


ABSENT  FROM  DUTY  25 

other  bank,  perhaps  two  miles  away.  The  September 
moon  was  at  its  full  and,  in  that  rare,  cloudless  atmos- 
phere, flooding  the  valley  with  its  soft,  silvery  light  so  that 
close  at  hand,  within  the  limits  of  the  garrison,  every  ob- 
ject could  be  almost  as  distinctly  seen  as  in  broad  day- 
light, but,  farther  away,  over  the  lowlands  and  the  river 
bottom  and  the  rolling  prairie  stretching  to  the  northern 
horizon,  the  cottonwoods  along  the  stream  or  in  the  dis- 
tant swales  made  only  black  blotches  against  the  vague, 
colorless  surface,  and  the  bold  bluffs  beyond  the  reserva- 
tion limits  south  of  the  flashing  waters,  the  sharp,  sawlike 
edge  of  the  distant  mountain  range  that  barred  the  way 
to  the  west,  even  the  cleancut  outlines  of  Eagle  Butte,  th*; 
landmark  of  the  northward  prairie,  visible  for  fifty  miles 
by  day,  were  now  all  veiled  in  some  intangible  filament 
that  screened  them  from  the  soldier's  searching  gaze. 
Later  in  the  season,  on  such  a  night,  their  crests  would 
gleam  with  radiance  almost  intolerable,  the  glistening 
sheen  of  their  spotless  crown  of  snow.  All  over  thi-s 
broad  expanse  of  upland  prairie  and  wooded  river  bed 
and  boldly  undulating  bluff  line  not  so  much  as  a  spark 
of  fire  peeped  through  the  wing  of  night  to  tell  the  pres- 
ence of  human  wayfarer,  white,  halfbreed  or  Indian,  even 
where  the  Sioux  had  swarmed,  perhaps  two  hundred 
strong,  at  sunset  of  the  day  gone  by. 

Close  at  hand,  northernmost  of  the  brown  line,  was  the 
double  set  of  quarters  occupied  by  Captains  Blake  and 
Ray,  the  latter,  as  senior,  having  chosen  the  half  nearest 
the  bluff  because  of  the  encircling  veranda  and  the  fine. 


26  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

far-extending  view.  A  bright  light  gleamed  now  behind 
the  blinds  of  the  corner  room  of  the  second  floor,  telling 
that  the  captain  was  up  and  dressing  in  answer  to  the 
commander's  summons,  but  all  the  rest  of  the  dozen 
houses  were  black,  save  where  at  the  middle  of  the  row 
a  faint  glow  came  from  the  open  doorway  at  the  com- 
manding officer's.  Across  the  broad  level  of  the  parade 
were  the  long,  low  barracks  of  the  troops,  six  in  number, 
gable-ending  east  and  west.  Closing  the  quadrangle  on 
the  south  were  the  headquarters  buildings  and  the  assem- 
bly room,  the  offices  of  the  adjutant  and  quartermaster, 
the  commissary  and  quartermaster's  storehouses,  etc.  At 
the  southwest  angle  stood  the  gaurd-house,  where  oil 
lamps,  backed  by  their  reflectors  of  polished  tin,  sent  bril- 
liant beams  of  light  athwart  the  roadway.  Beyond  these 
low  buildings  the  black  bulk  of  the  Medicine  Bow  Moun- 
tains, only  a  dozen  miles  away,  tumbled  confusedly 
against  the  sparkling  sky.  All  spoke  of  peace,  security, 
repose,  for  even  in  the  flats  under  the  westward  bluff, 
where  lay  the  wide  extended  corrals,  hay  and  wood  yards 
and  the  stables,  not  one  of  the  myriad  dogs  that  hung 
about  the  post  was  lifting  up  his  voice  to  bay  the  autumn 
moon.  Even  those  easily-started  night  trumpeters,  the 
big  Missouri  mules,  sprawled  about  their  roomy,  sand- 
floored  stables  and  drowsed  in  placid  comfort,  wearied 
with  their  musical  efi^orts  of  the  earlier  hours  of  the  night 
and  gathering  impetus  for  the  sonorous  braying  with 
which  they  should  presently  salute  the  dawn. 

Beyond  the  guard-house,  at  the  edge  of  the  plateau 


ABSENT  FROM  DUTY  27 

overlooking  the  westward  flats,  but  invisible  from  the 
flagstatl  bhiff,  stood  the  big  wooden  edifice  known  as  the 
store,  with  its  card  and  bilUard  room  for  the  officers  on 
the  southern  side,  another  for  the  enHsted  men  upon  the 
northern,  the  bar  and  general  merchandise  establishment 
compressed  between  them.  Southward,  farther  still,  sur- 
rounded by  crude  greenhouses  abounding  in  potted  plants 
and  beds  of  vine  and  vegetables,  was  the  big  and  some- 
what pretentious  house  of  the  post  trader  himself,  his 
own  stables  and  corral  being  half  way  down  the  slope  and 
well  away  from  those  of  the  garrison.  "  Out  of  sight," 
muttered  Webb,  **  but  by  no  means  out  of  mind,"  for  it 
was  safe  to  say  the  thoughts  of  more  than  half  the 
men  and  women  making  up  the  social  element  of  Fort 
Frayne  had  been  centering  within  the  last  few  days  be- 
neath the  roof  that  gave  shelter  to  that  brilliant,  fascina- 
ting beauty  Nanette  Flower. 

Ten  days  a  denizen  of  the  fort,  it  seemed  as  though 
she  had  been  there  as  many  weeks,  so  completely  had 
she  accepted  the  situation  and  possessed  herself  of  the  ins 
and  outs  of  garrison  life.  The  women  had  called,  of 
course,  and  gone  away  filled  with  unwilling  admiration, 
for  the  girl's  gowns  and  graces  w^ere  undeniable.  The 
married  men,  as  was  the  army  way,  had  called  with 
their  wives  on  the  occasion  of  the  first  visit.  The  bache- 
lors, from  Webb  down  to  the  junior  subaltern,  had  called 
in  little  squads  at  first;  afterwards,  except  the  major, 
they  sought  to  see  Miss  Flower  when  other  fellows  were 
not  present.    Even  Hartley  and  Donovan,  the  two  whose 


28  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

devotions  to  Esther  Dade  had  been  carried  to  the  verge 
of  oppression,  and  who  were  on  terms  of  distant  civility 
only  when  compelled  to  appear  together  in  the  presence 
of  women  or  their  other  superiors,  had  been  moved  to 
more  than  one  visit  at  the  Hays',  but  Hartley  speedily 
returned  to  his  undesired  siege  at  the  quarters  of  Captain 
Dade,  while  Donovan  joined  forces  with  two  other  young- 
sters, Bruce  and  Putney,  because  it  gave  them  comfort  to 
bother  Field;  who,  being  the  adjutant,  and  a  very  busy 
man,  could  visit  only  at  certain  hours  of  the  day  or  eve- 
ning.    Now,  it  had  become  apparent  to  the  boys  that 
despite  her  general  attitude  of  cordiality  their  attentions 
were  not  what  Mrs.  Hay  so  much  desired  as  those  of  the 
major  commanding.     Twice  had  he  been  invited  to  dine 
within  the  week  of  Nanette's  coming.    Once  he  accepted. 
The  second  time  he  begged  off  on  plea  of  a  previous  en- 
gagement,   subsequently    made,    to    go    shooting    with 
Blake.     It  was  the  bachelor  heart  and  home  of  Major 
Webb  to  which  Mrs.  Hay  would  have  laid  vicarious  siege, 
small  blame  to  her,  for  that  indomitable  cross-examiner, 
Mrs.  Wilkins,  wife  and  manager  of  the  veteran  ranker 
now  serving  as  post  quartermaster,  had  wormed  out  of 
Mrs.  Hay  the  admission  that  Nanette  had  no  fortune. 
She  was  the  only  daughter  of  a  half  brother,  very  dear 
to  Mrs.  Hay,  whom  she  had  lost,  she  said,  long  years 
before.     To  do  her  justice,  it  was  quite  apparent  that 
Miss  Flower  was  no  party  to  the  plan,  for,  though  she 
beamed  on  Webb  as  she  did  on  all,  she  frankly  showed  her 
preference  f©r  the  younger  officers  who  could  dance  as 


ABSENT  FROM  DUTY  29 

well  as  ride,  and  either  dancing  or  riding  was  her  glory. 
She  danced  like  a  sylph;  she  seenied  to  float  about  the 
room  as  though  on  air;  she  rode  superbly,  and  shirked 
no  leap  that  even  Ray  and  Field  took  with  lowered  hands 
and  close  gripping  knees.  She  was  joyous,  laughing, 
radiant  with  all  the  officers,  and  fairly  glowed  with  cor- 
diality for  all  the  women.  But  it  speedily  developed  that 
she  would  rather  dance  with  Field  than  any  of  the  others, 
probably  because  he  was  by  far  the  best  waltzer,  and  to 
ride  with  him,  because,  Ray  excepted,  there  was  none 
to  excel  him  in  the  saddle.  Ten  days  had  she  been  at 
Frayne  and  within  that  time  had  become  as  thoroughly 
at  ease  and  home  as  though  it  had  been  her  abiding  place 
since  babyhood.  It  was  plain  to  see  that  big  Bill  Hay 
almost  worshipped  this  lovely  protegee  of  the  wife  he  more 
than  worshipped.  It  was  plain  to  see  that  Webb  uneasily 
held  aloof,  as  though  fearful  of  singeing  his  shrivelling 
wings.  It  was  plain  to  see  that  the  hitherto  indomitable 
Mrs.  Wilkins  was  puzzled.  It  was  not  so  plain  to  see 
that  there  were  two  women  at  the  post  on  whom  Miss 
Flower's  charms  made  slight  impression — Mesdames 
Blake  and  Ray — two  wise  young  matrons  who  were 
known  to  have  few  secrets  from  each  other  and  no  in- 
timacies— or  rather  no  confidences — with  any  other 
woman  at  Fort  Frayne — Mrs.  Dade  possibly  excepted. 

But  what  they  thought,  their  liege  lords  stood  ready  to 
swear  to ;  and  it  was  to  them  Webb  turned  in  his  perplex- 
ity when  it  became  apparent  that  his  young  adjutant  was 
ensnared.    It  was  to  Ray  he  promptly  opened  his  heart, 


30  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

as  that  veteran  of  a  dozen  Indian  campaigns,  then  draw- 
ing his  fourth  "  fogy,"  came  hastening  out  to  join  the 
commander. 

"  Here's  confirmation  of  the  telegram.  Read  that, 
Ray,"  said  Webb,  handing  him  the  despatch  from  Fort 
Beecher,  "Then  come  with  me  to  Field's.  He's  missing." 

"  Missing !  "  cried  Ray,  in  consternation,  as  he  hur- 
riedly opened  the  page.  "  In  God's  name  what  do  you 
mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  he  isn't  in  quarters  and  hasn't  been  in  bed  to- 
night.   Now  I  need  him — and  it's  two  o'clock." 

Even  as  he  spoke  the  voice  of  the  sentry  at  the  guard- 
house rang  out  the  watch  call  through  the  still  and  spark- 
ling night.  It  was  taken  up  by  Number  Two  back  of  the 
storehouses,  and  his  "  All's  well  "  was  still  echoing  among 
the  foothills,  prolonged  and  powerful,  when  Number 
Three,  down  at  the  quartermaster's  corral,  began  his  sol- 
dier song;  and  so,  alert,  cheery,  reassuring,  the  sentries 
sent  their  deep-voiced  assurance  on  its  unbroken  round  to 
the  waking  guardian  at  the  southwest  angle,  and  as  his 
final  "  A-a-a-ll's  W-e-ell  "  went  rolling  away  over  bluff 
and  stream  and  prairie,  Ray  lifted  a  grave  and  anxious 
face  from  the  fateful  paper. 

"  Lame  Wolf  out  ?  That's  bad  in  itself !  He's  old  Red 
Cloud's  nephew  and  a  brute  at  best.  Stabber's  people 
there  yet  ?  "  he  suddenly  asked,  whirling  on  his  heel  and 
gazing  westward. 

"  Can't  make  out  even  with  my  glasses.  All  dark  as 
pitch  among  the  cottonwoods,  but  Kennedy,  who  made 


ABSENT  FROM  DUTY  3^ 

the  ride,  says  he  saw  smokes  back  of  Eagle  Butte  just 
before  sunset." 

"  Then  you  can  bet  they  won't  be  there  at  dawn — the 
warriors  at  least.  Of  course  the  women,  the  kids  and 
old  men  will  stay  if  only  for  a  blind.  He  had  forty  fight- 
ing men,  and  Wolf's  got  at  least  two  hundred.  What 
started  the  row  ?  " 

"  The  arrest  of  those  two  young  bucks  on  charge  of 
killing  Finn,  the  sheep  herder,  on  the  Piney  last  week. 
I  don't  believe  the  Sioux  began  it.  There's  a  bad  lot 
among  those  damned  rustlers,"  said  Webb,  snapping  the 
glass  into  its  well-worn  case.  "  But  no  matter  who  starts, 
we  have  to  finish  it.  Old  Plodder  is  worried  and  wants 
help.    Reckon  I'll  have  to  send  you,  Ray." 

"  Ready  whenever  you  say,  sir,"  was  the  prompt  and 
soldierly  reply.  Even  marriage  had  not  taken  the  edge 
from  Ray's  keen  zest  for  campaigning.  "  Shall  I  have 
out  my  sergeant  and  cooks  at  once?  We'll  need  to  take 
rations." 

"  Yes,  but  wait  with  me  till  I  wire  the  chief  at  Laramie. 
Come  to  the  office."  So  saying  the  post  commander 
turned  and  strode  away.  The  captain  glanced  at  the  upper 
window  where  the  light  now  dimly  burned,  but  blind  and 
window  were  open,  and  a  woman's  form  appeared. 

"  It's  all  right,  Maidie,"  called  the  captain,  softly. 
"  May  have  to  start  out  on  scout  at  daybreak.  That's  all. 
Home  soon,"  and  with  a  reassuring  wave  of  the  hand, 
turned  again  to  his  stanch  friend  and  commander. 

"  I  hate  to  send  you — again,"  said  Webb.    "  You  were 


32  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

out  in  June,  and  the  others  have  had  only  short  scouts 
since — " 

"  Don't  bother.  What's  a  cavah-yman  for  ?  Shall  we  ? 
— I — can't  believe  it — some  how,"  and  Ray  stopped, 
glanced  inquiringly  at  the  major,  and  then  nodded  toward 
the  doorway  of  the  third  house  on  the  row.  The  ground 
floor  was  occupied  by  Field  as  his  quarters,  the  up-stair 
rooms  by  Putney  and  Ross. 

"  Come  in,"  said  the  major,  briefly,  and,  pushing 
through  the  gate  they  softly  entered  the  dark  hall- 
way and  struck  a  light  in  the  front  room.  A  wood 
fire  was  smouldering  on  the  andirons  in  the  wide 
brick  chimney  place.  An  open  book,  face  downward, 
was  on  the  centre  table.  Two  embroidered  slippers 
lay  as  though  hurriedly  kicked  ojff,  one  under  the 
sofa  beyond  the  mantelpiece,  the  other  half  way 
across  the  worn  carpet.  Striking  another  match  at 
the  doorway,  Ray  passed  on  to  the  little  inner  room, — the 
bed  chamber.  On  the  bed,  carelessly  thrown,  were  the 
young  oflicer's  best  and  newest  forage  cap,  undress  uni- 
form coat  and  trousers.  He  had  used  them  during  the 
evening  when  calling  at  the  Hays'.  On  the  floor  were  the 
enamelled  leather  buttoned  boots  he  wore  on  such  occa- 
sions. The  bed  was  otherwise  untouched.  Other  boots 
and  shoes  in  orderly  row  stood  against  the  v/all  beside  the 
plain,  unpainted  wardrobe.  The  spurred  riding  boots 
and  the  knee-tight  breeches  were  gone.  Turning  back  to 
the  front  room,  Ray  found  the  major,  his  face  gray  and 
disturbed,  holding  forth  to  him  an  open  envelope.     Ray 


ABSENT  FROM  DUTY  33 

took  it  and  glanced  at  the  superscription.  "  Lieutenant 
Beveriy  Field,  Fort  Frayne,"  and  returned  it  without  a 
word.  Both  knew  the  strange,  angular,  slashing  hand- 
writing at  a  glance,  for  both  had  seen  and  remarked  it 
before.     It  was  Nanette  Flower's. 

Dropping  the  envelope  on  the  table — he  had  found  it  on 
the  floor — Webb  led  the  way  to  the  open  air.  There  was 
then  no  time  to  compare  views.  There  stood  the  ser- 
geant. 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  with  a  snap  of  the  gloved  left  hand  at 
the  brown  tube  nestling  in  the  hollow  of  the  shoulder, 
"  Number  Five  reports  that  he  has  heard  galloping  hoof- 
beats  up  the  bench  twice  in  the  last  half  hour,  and  thought 
he  saw  distant  horsemen, — three; — couldn't  say  whether 
they  were  Indians  or  cowboys." 

"  Very  good,  sergeant,"  was  the  major's  brief  answer. 
"  Send  for  the  telegraph  operator  and  my  orderly." 

The  sergeant  turned. 

"  One  moment,"  called  Ray, — "  your  pardon,  Major — 
My  first  sergeant,  too,  and — sergeant,  have  any  sentries 
reported  horses  taken  out  from  the  stables  to-night  ?  " 

*'  Not  one,  sir,"  and,  stanch  and  sturdy,  the  commander 
of  the  guard  stood  ready  to  vouch  for  his  men. 

"  That's  all !  " 

A  quick  salute,  a  face  to  the  right  about  and  the  ser- 
geant was  gone.  Webb  turned  and  looked  inquiringly  at 
Ray. 

"  I  asked,  sir,"  was  that  officer's  brief  explanation, 
*  because  wherever  Field  has  gone  he  wore  riding  dress." 


CHAPTER  III 

A    NIGHT    ENCOUNTER 

COMFORTED  by  abundant  food,  refreshed  and 
stimulated  by  more  than  two  or  three  enthusi- 
astic toasts  to  the  health  of  the  major  the  men  so 
loved,  Trooper  Kennedy,  like  a  born  dragoon  and  son  of 
the  ould  sod,  bethought  him  of  the  gallant  bay  that  had 
borne  him  bravely  and  with  hardly  a  halt  all  the  long  way 
from  Beecher  to  Frayne.  The  field  telegraph  had  indeed 
been  stretched,  but  it  afforded  more  fun  for  the  Sioux 
than  aid  to  the  outlying  posts  on  the  Powder  and  Little 
Horn,  for  it  was  down  ten  days  out  of  twelve.  Plodder, 
lieutenant  colonel  of  infantry  commanding  at  Beecher, 
had  been  badly  worried  by  the  ugly  demonstrations  of  the 
Indians  for  ten  days  past.  He  was  forever  seeing  in 
mind's  eye  the  hideous  details  of  the  massacre  at  Fort 
Phil  Kearny,  a  few  miles  further  on  around  the  shoulder 
of  the  mountains,  planned  and  carried  out  by  Red  Cloud 
with  such  dreadful  success  in  '^'j.  Plodder  had  strong 
men  at  his  back,  whom  even  hordes  of  painted  Sioux 
could  never  stampede,  but  they  were  few  in  number,  and 
there  were  those  ever  present  helpless,  dependent  women 
and  children.  His  call  for  aid  was  natural  enough,  and  his 
choice  of  Kennedy,  daring,  dashing  lad  who  had  learned 

34 


A  NIGHT  ENCOUNTER  35 

to  ride  in  Galway,  was  the  best  that  could  be  made.  No 
peril  could  daunt  the  light-hearted  fellow,  already  proud 
wearer  of  the  medal  of  honor;  but,  duty  done,  it  was 
Kennedy's  creed  that  the  soldier  merited  reward  and  re- 
laxation. If  he  went  to  bed  at  "  F  "  Troop's  barracks 
there  would  be  no  more  cakes  and  ale,  no  more  of  the 
major's  good  grub  and  rye.  If  he  went  down  to  look 
after  the  gallant  steed  he  loved — saw  to  it  that  Kilmaine 
was  rubbed  down,  bedded,  given  abundant  hay  and  later 
water — sure  then,  with  clear  conscience,  he  could  accept 
the  major's  "  bid,"  and  call  again  on  his  bedward  way  and 
toast  the  major  to  his  Irish  heart's  and  stomach's  con- 
tent. Full  of  pluck  and  fight  and  enthusiasm,  and  only 
quarter  full,  he  would  insist,  of  rye,  was  Kennedy  as  he 
strode  whistling  down  the  well-remembered  road  to  the 
flats,  for  he,  with  Captain  Truscott's  famous  troop,  had 
served  some  months  at  Frayne  before  launching  forth  to 
Indian  story  land  in  the  shadows  of  the  Big  Horn  range. 
Kennedy,  in  fact,  essayed  to  sing  when  once  out  of  ear- 
shot of  the  guard-house,  and  singing,  he  strolled  on  past 
the  fork  of  the  winding  road  where  he  should  have  turned 
to  his  right,  and  in  the  fulness  of  his  heart  went  striding 
southward  down  the  slope,  past  the  once  familiar  haunt 
the  store,  now  dark  and  deserted,  past  the  big  house  of 
the  post  trader,  past  the  trader's  roomy  stables  and  cor- 
ral, and  so  wended  his  moonlit  way  along  the  Rawlins 
trail,  never  noting  until  he  had  chanted  over  half  a  mile 
and  most  of  the  songs  he  knew,  that  Frayne  was  well 
behind  him  and  the  rise  to  the  Medicine  Bow  in  front. 


36  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

Then  Kennedy  began  to  laugh  and  call  himself  names, 
and  then,  as  he  turned  about  to  retrace  his  steps  by  a 
short  cut  over  the  bottom,  he  was  presently  surprised,  but 
in  no  wise  disconcerted,  to  find  himself  face  to  face  with 
a  painted  Sioux.  There  by  the  path  side,  cropping  the 
dewy  grass,  was  the  trained  pony.  Here,  lounging  by 
the  trail,  the  thick  black  braids  of  his  hair  interlaced  with 
beads,  the  quill  gorget  heaving  at  his  massive  throat ;  the 
heavy  blanket  slung  negligently,  gracefully  about  his 
stalwart  form;  his  nether  limbs  and  feet  in  embroidered 
buckskin,  his  long-lashed  quirt  in  hand ;  here  stood,  almost 
confronting  him,  as  fine  a  specimen  of  the  warrior  of  the 
Plains  as  it  had  ever  been  Trooper  Kennedy's  lot  to  see, 
and  see  them  he  had — many  a  time  and  oft. 

In  that  incomparable  tale,  "  My  Lord  the  Elephant," 
the  great  Mulvaney  comes  opportunely  upon  a  bottle  of 
whiskey  and  a  goblet  of  water.  "  The  first  and  second 
dhrink  I  didn't  taste,"  said  he,  "  bein'  dhry,  but  the  fourth 
and  fifth  took  hould,  an'  I  began  to  think  scornful  of  ele- 
phants." At  no  time  stood  Kennedy  in  awe  of  a  Sioux. 
At  this  time  he  held  him  only  in  contempt. 

"  How,  John,"  said  he,  with  an  Irishman's  easy  inso- 
lence, "  Lookin'  for  a  chance  to  steal  somethin' — is  it  ?  " 
And  then  Kennedy  was  both  amazed  and  enraptured  at 
the  prompt  reply  in  the  fervent  English  of  the  far  fron- 
tier. 

"  Go  to  hell,  you  pock-marked  son-of-a-scut !  Where'd 
you  steal  your  whiskey  ?  " 

For  five  seconds  Kennedy  thought  he  was  dreaming. 


A  NIGHT  ENCOUNTER  37 

Then,  convinced  that  he  was  awake,  an  Irishman  scorned 
and  insulted,  he  dashed  in  to  the  attack.  Both  fists  shot 
out  from  the  brawny  shoulders;  both  missed  the  agile 
dodger;  then  off  went  the  blanket,  and  with  two  lean, 
red,  sinewy  arms  the  Sioux  had  "  locked  his  foeman 
round,"  and  the  two  were  straining  and  swaying  in  a 
magnificent  grapple.  At  arms'  length  Pat  could  easily 
have  had  the  best  of  it,  for  the  Indian  never  boxes ;  but, 
in  a  bear  hug  and  a  wrestle,  all  chances  favored  the  Sioux. 
Cursing  and  straining,  honors  even  on  both  for  a  while, 
Connaught  and  wild  Wyoming  strove  for  the  mastery. 
Whiskey  is  a  wonderful  starter  but  a  mighty  poor  stayer 
of  a  fight.  Kennedy  loosed  his  grip  from  time  to  time  to 
batter  wildly  with  his  clinched  fists  at  such  sections  of 
Sioux  anatomy  as  he  could  reach;  but,  at  range  so  close, 
his  blows  lacked  both  swing  and  steam,  and  fell  harm- 
less on  sinewy  back  and  lean,  muscular  flanks.  Then  he 
tried  a  Galway  hitch  and  trip,  but  his  lithe  antagonist 
knew  a  trick  worth  ten  of  that.  Kennedy  tried  many  a 
time  next  day  to  satisfactorily  account  for  it,  but 
never  with  success.  He  found  himself  speedily  on  the 
broad  of  his  back,  gasping  for  breath  with  which  to  keep 
up  his  vocal  defiance,  staring  up  into  the  glaring,  venge- 
ful black  eyes  of  his  furious  and  triumphant  foeman. 
And  then  in  one  sudden,  awful  moment  he  realized  that 
the  Indian  was  reaching  for  his  knife.  Another  instant 
it  gleamed  aloft  in  the  moonlight,  and  the  poor  lad  shut 
kis  eyes  against  the  swift  and  deadly  blow.  Curses 
ihanged  to  one  wordless  prayer  to  heaven  for  pity  and 


38      '     A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

help.  He  never  saw  the  glittering  blade  go  spinning 
through  the  air.  Vaguely,  faintly  he  heard  a  stern  young 
voice  ordering  "  Hold  there ! "  then  another,  a  silvery 
voice,  crying  something  in  a  strange  tongue,  and  was 
conscious  that  an  unseen  power  had  loosed  the  -fearful 
grip  on  his  throat ;  next,  that,  obedient  to  that  same  power, 
—one  he  dare  not  question, — the  Indian  was  struggling 
slowly  to  his  feet,  and  then  for  a  few  seconds  Kennedy 
soared  away  into  cloudland,  knowing  naught  of  what 
was  going  on  about  him.  When  he  came  to  again,  he 
heard  a  confused  murmur  of  talk  about  him,  and  grew 
dimly  aware  that  his  late  antagonist  was  standing  over 
him,  panting  still  and  slightly  swaying,  and  that  an  officer, 
a  young  athlete,  was  saying  rebukeful  words.  Well  he 
knew  him,  as  what  trooper  of  the  — th  did  not? — Lieu- 
tenant Beverly  Field;  but,  seeing  the  reopened  eyes  it 
was  the  Indian  again  who  sought  to  speak.  With  up- 
lifted hand  he  turned  from  the  rescuer  to  the  rescued. 

"  You're  saved  this  time,  you  cur  of  a  Mick,"  were, 
expurgated  of  unprintable  blasphemy,  the  exact  words  of 
the  semi-savage  lord  of  the  frontier,  "  but  by  the  God 
that  made  us  both  I'll  get  you  before  another  moon,  dash 
dash  you,  and  when  I  do  I'll  cut  out  your  blackguard 
heart  and  eat  it."  Then  bounding  on  his  pony,  away  he 
sped  at  mad  gallop,  westward. 

For  a  moment  no  further  word  was  spoken.  The 
officer  presently  helped  the  soldier  to  his  feet  and  stayed 
him,  for  the  latter's  legs  seemed  wobbly.  Field  let  his 
salvage  get  its  breath  before  asking  questions.     Yet  he 


A  NIGHT  ENCOUNTER  39 

was  puzzled,  for  the  man's  face  was  strange  to  him. 
"  Who  are  you  ? "  he  asked,  at  length,  "  and  what  on 
earth  are  you  doing  out  here  this  time  of  night  ?  " 

"  Kennedy,  sir.  Captain  Truscott's  troop,  at  Fort 
Beecher.     I  got  in  with  despatches  an  hour  ago — " 

"  What !  "  cried  Field.  "  Despatches !  What  did  you 
do—" 

"  Gave  'em  to  the  major,  sir.  Beg  pardon ;  they  was 
lookin'  for  the  adjutant,  sir,  an'  Sergeant  Hogan  said  he 
wasn't  home." 

Even  in  the  moonlight  the  Irishman  saw  the  color  fade 
from  the  young  officer's  face.  The  hand  that  stayed  him 
dropped  nerveless.  With  utter  consternation  in  his  big 
blue  eyes.  Field  stood  for  a  moment,  stunned  and  silent. 
Then  the  need  of  instant  action  spurred  him.  "  I  must 
go — at  once,"  he  said.  "  You  are  all  right  now — You 
can  get  back  ?     You've  been  drinking,  haven't  you  ?  " 

"  The  major's  health,  sir-— just  a  sup  or  two." 

"  I've  no  time  now  to  listen  to  how  you  came  to  be  out 
here.  I'll  see  you  by  and  by."  But  still  the  young  officer 
hesitated.  One  hand  grasped  the  rein  of  his  horse.  He 
half  turned  to  mount,  then  turned  again.  "  Kennedy," 
he  faltered,  "  you'd  have  been  a  dead  man  if  we — if  I — 
hadn't  reached  you  at  that  moment." 

"  I  know  it,  sir,"  burst  in  Pat,  impetuously.  "  I'll 
never  forget  it — " 

"  Hush,  Kennedy,  you  must  forget — forget  that  you 
saw — spoke  with  me — forget  that  you  saw  or  heard — any 
other  soul  on  earth  out  here  to-night.     Can  you  promise  ?  " 


40  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

"  I'll  cut  my  tongue  out  before  I  ever  spake  the  word 
that'll  harm  the  lieutenant,  or  the — the — or  any  one  he 
says,  sir.  But  never  will  I  forget!  It  ain't  in  me, 
sir.'' 

"  Let  it  go  at  that  then.  Here,  shake  hands,  Kennedy. 
Now,  good-night ! "  Another  instant  and  Field  was  in 
saddle  and  speeding  away  toward  the  post  where  Hghts 
were  now  dancing  about  the  quartermaster's  corral,  and 
firefly  lamps  were  flitting  down  the  slope  toward  the 
stables  on  the  flats.  Ray's  men  were  already  up  and  doing. 
Slowly,  stiffly  following,  Pat  Kennedy  rubbed  his  aching 
head,  with  a  hand  that  shook  as  never  did  his  resolution. 
His  bewildered  brain  was  puzzling  over  a  weighty  prob- 
lem. '*  The  lieutenant's  safe  all  right,"  he  muttered, 
"  but  what's  gone  wid  the  squaw  that  was  shoutin'  Sioux 
at  that  murdherin'  buck  ?  " 

Meantime  all  Fort  Frayne  had  seemed  to  wake  to  life. 
No  call  had  sounded  on  the  trumpet.  No  voice  had  been 
raised,  save  the  invariable  call  of  the  sentries,  passing 
from  post  to  post  the  half  hours  of  the  night ;  but  the  stir 
at  the  guard-house,  the  bustle  over  at  the  barracks,  the 
swift  footsteps  of  sergeants  or  orderlies  on  the  plank 
walk  or  resounding  wooden  galleries,  speedily  roused  first 
one  sleeper,  then  another,  and  blinds  began  to  fly  open 
along  the  second  floor  fronts,  and  white-robed  forms  to 
appear  at  the  windows,  and  inquiring  voices,  male  and 
female,  hailed  the  passerby  with  "  What's  the  matter, 
sergeant  ?  "  and  the  answer  was  all  sufficient  to  rouse  the 
entire  garrison. 


A  NIGHT  ENCOUNTER  41 

"  Captain  Ray's  troop  ordered  out,  sir,"  or  "  ma'am," 
as  the  case  might  be.  No  need  to  add  the  well-worn 
cause  of  such  night  excursions — "  Indians." 

The  office  was  brightly  lighted,  and  there,  sleepy-eyed 
and  silent,  were  gathered  many  of  the  officers  about  their 
alert  commander.  Ray  was  down  at  his  stables,  passing 
judgment  on  the  mounts.  Only  fifty  were  to  go,  the  best 
half  hundred  in  the  sorrel  troop,  for  it  was  to  be  a  forced 
march.  Neither  horse  nor  man  could  be  taken  unless  in 
prime  condition,  for  a  break  down  on  part  of  either  on  the 
way  meant  delay  to  the  entire  command,  or  death  by 
torture  to  the  hapless  trooper  left  behind.  Small  hope 
was  there  of  a  march  made  unobserved,  for  Stabber's 
band  of  Ogallallas  had  been  for  weeks  encamped  within 
plain  view.  Less  hope  was  there  of  Stabber's  holding 
aloof  now  that  his  brethren  at  the  Big  Horn  had  declared 
for  war.  He  was  a  recalcitrant  of  the  first  magnitude, 
a  subchief  who  had  never  missed  the  warpath  when  the 
Sioux  were  afield,  or  the  consolation  trip  to  Washington 
between  times.  Where  Stabber  went  his  young  men  fol- 
lowed unquestioning.  It  was  a  marvel  that  Kennedy  had 
succeeded  in  getting  through.  It  meant  that  the  Indian 
runners,  or  the  Indian  smokes  and  signals,  had  not  at  once 
so  covered  the  country  with  scouts  that  couriers  could  by 
no  possibility  slip  between  them.  But  now  the  signal  fire 
was  gleaming  at  Eagle  Butte,  and  an  answering  blaze 
had  flared  from  Stabber's  camp.  Invisible  from  Fort 
Frayne,  they  had  both  been  seen  by  shrewd  non-com- 
missioned officers,  sent  scouting  up  the  Platte  by  Major 


42  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

Webb  within  half  an  hour  of  the  coming  of  the 
alarm. 

"  Ray  will  push  ahead  at  once,"  said  Webb,  to  his  silent 
subordinates.  **  You  see  Colonel  Plodder  has  only  two 
troops  up  there,  and  he  will  need  all  his  infantry  to  defend 
the  post.  I've  wired  to  Laramie  and  to  Department 
Headquarters,  and  further  orders  will  come  before  noon. 
Let  all  the  cavalry  be  ready.  Then  if  we  push  out,  Dade, 
we  leave  Fort  Frayne  to  you.  They'll  hardly  venture 
south  of  the  Platte  this  time." 

"  Is — Mr.  Field  going  with  Captain  Ray  ?  "  presently 
ventured  young  Ross,  who  knew  Ray  had  but  one  sub- 
altern for  duty  at  the  moment,  and  whose  soul  was  burn- 
ing with  eagerness  to  accompany  the  first  troop  to  take 
the  field. 

"  No,"  said  the  major,  shortly.  "  Captain  Ray  needs 
no  more." 

"  I  only  asked  because  Field  isn't  here,  and  I  thought 
— maybe—"  stumbled  Ross,  ingloriously,  but  the  mischief 
was  done. 

"  Mr.  Field  is — busy,"  answered  the  major,  still  more 
shortly,  then  reddened  to  his  bushy  brows,  for  at  the  door- 
way, in  riding  dress,  and  with  a  face  the  color  of  parch- 
ment, stood  the  officer  in  question.  It  was  a  moment 
that  threatened  panic,  but  Webb  met  the  crisis  with 
marked  aplomb. 

"  Oh,  Field,"  he  cried,  "  there's  another  matter.  I 
want  two  good  men  to  slip  out  at  once  and  see  how  many 
of  Stabber's  people  start  or  have  started.     It  maiy  be  day- 


A  NIGHT  ENCOUNTER  43 

break  before  they  can  tell.  Sergeant  Schreiber  would  be 
a  tiptop  man  for  one — and  little  Duffy.  You  'tend  to 
it." 

And  so,  mercifully,  he  sent  the  lad  away  until  the  crowd 
should  have  dispersed.  Only  Blake  and  Ray  were  with 
him  when,  after  awhile,  Mr.  Field  returned  and  stood 
silently  before  them.  Well  he  knew  that  the  post  com- 
mander could  hardly  overlook  the  absence  of  his  adjutant 
at  such  a  time. 

"  Have  you  anything  to  tell  me.  Field  ? "  was  the 
major's  only  query,  his  tone  full  of  gentle  yet  grave  re- 
proach. 

"  I  was  restless.  I  could  not  sleep,  sir.  I  went  out — 
purposely." 

"  You  know  no  horse  can  be  taken  from  the  stables 
at  night  except  in  presence  of  the  sergeant  or  corporal  of 
the  guard." 

"  I  took  none,  sir,"  was  the  answer,  and  now  both  faces 
were  white.     "  I  rode  one  of — Mr.  Hay's." 

For  one  moment  there  was  no  sound  but  the  loud 
ticking  of  the  big  office  clock.     Then  came  the  question. 

"  Who  rode  the  others.  Field  ?  The  sentries  say  they 
heard  three." 

There  was  another  moment  of  silence.  Ray  stepped 
on  tiptoe  to  the  door  as  though  he  wanted  not  to  hear. 
Blake  looked  blankly  out  of  the  window.  Then  the  young 
soldier  spoke. 

"  I — cannot  tell  you,  sir." 

For  full  ten  seconds  the  post  commander  sat  with  grave. 


44  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

pallid  face,  looking  straight  into  the  eyes  of  his  young 
staff  officer.  White  as  his  senior,  but  with  eyes  as  un- 
flinching, Field  returned  the  gaze.  At  last  the  major's 
voice  was  heard  again,  sad  and  constrained. 

"  Field,  Captain  Ray  starts  on  a  forced  march  at  once 
for  Fort  Beecher.     I — wish  you  to  go  with  him." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    SIGN    OF    THE    BAR    SHOE 

MANY  a  time  has  it  happened  in  the  old  days  of 
the  old  army  that  the  post  adjutant  has  begged 
to  be  allowed  to  go  with  some  detachment  sent 
after  Indians.  Rarely  has  it  happened,  however,  that, 
without  any  request  from  the  detachment  commander  or 
of  his  own,  has  the  post  adjutant  been  ordered  to  go.  No 
one  could  say  of  Beverly  Field  that  he  had  not  abundantly 
availed  himself  of  every  opportunity  for  active  service  in 
the  past.  During  his  first  two  years  with  the  regiment 
he  had  spent  more  than  half  the  time  in  saddle  and  afield, 
scouting  the  trails  of  war  parties  or  marauding  bands, 
or  watching  over  a  peaceable  tribe  when  on  the  annual 
hunt.  Twice  he  had  been  out  with  Ray,  which  meant  a 
liberal  education  in  plainscraft  and  frontier  duty.  Twice 
twenty  times,  probably,  had  he  said  he  would  welcome  a 
chance  to  go  again  with  Captain  Ray,  and  now  the  chance 
had  come,  so  had  the  spoken  order,  and,  so  far  from  re- 
ceiving it  with  rejoicing,  it  was  more  than  apparent  that 
he  heard  it  with  something  like  dismay. 

But  Webb  was  not  the  man  to  either  explain  or  defend 
an  order,  even  to  a  junior  for  whom  he  cherished  such 

45 


46  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

regard.  Field  felt  instinctively  that  it  was  not  because  oi 
a  wish  expressed  in  the  past  he  was  so  suddenly  bidden  to 
take  the  field.  Ray's  senior  subaltern,  as  has  been  said, 
was  absent,  being  on  duty  at  West  Point,  but  his  junior 
was  on  hand,  and  Ray  really  did  not  need,  and  probably 
had  not  applied  for,  the  services  of  Mr.  Field.  It  was  all 
the  major's  doing,  and  all,  reasoned  he,  because  the  major 
deemed  it  best  that  for  the  time  being  his  young  adjutant 
should  be  sent  away  from  the  post.  Impulse  prompted 
Field  to  ask  wherein  he  had  offended  or  failed.  Reflec- 
tion taught  him,  however,  that  he  would  be  wise  to  ask 
no  questions.  It  might  well  be  that  Webb  knew  more 
of  what  had  happened  during  the  night  than  he,  Beverly 
Field,  would  care  to  have  mentioned. 

"  You  can  be  ready,  can  you  not?  "  asked  the  major. 

"  I  am  ready  now,  sir,'*  was  the  brief,  firm  reply,  but 
the  tone  told  unerringly  that  the  lad  resented  and  in  heart 
rebelled  at  the  detail.  "  To  whom  shall  I  turn  over  the 
post  fund,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  care  to  have  you  transfer  funds  or — any- 
thing. Field.  This  is  but  a  temporary  affair,  one  that  will 
take  you  away  perhaps  a  fortnight." 

"  I  prefer  that  it  should  be  permanent,  sir,"  was  the 
young  officer's  sudden  interruption,  and,  though  his  eyes 
were  blazing,  he  spoke  with  effort,  his  face  still  white 
with  mingled  sense  of  indignity  and  indignation. 

**  Gently,  Mr.  Field,"  said  Webb,  with  unruffled  calm, 
even  while  uplifting  a  hand  in  quiet  warning.  "  We  will 
consider  that,  if  need  be,  on  your  return.     Meantime,  if 


THE  SIGN  OF  TPIE  BAR  SHOE  47 

you  desire,  I  will  receipt  to  you  for  the  post  fund  or  any 
other  public  money." 

"  That  is  the  trouble,  sir.  The  best  I  can  do  is  give 
you  an  order  for  it.  Post  treasurers,  as  a  rule,  have 
not  had  to  turn  over  their  funds  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning,"  which  statement  was  true  enough,  however 
injudicious  it  might  be  to  bruit  it.  Mild-mannered  com- 
manding officers  sometimes  amaze  their  subordinates  by 
most  unlooked  for  and  unwelcome  eruptiveness  of  speech 
when  they  feel  that  an  unwarrantable  liberty  has  been 
taken.     Webb  did  not  take  fire.     He  turned  icy. 

"  The  quartermaster's  safe  can  be  opened  at  any  mo- 
ment, Mr.  Field,"  said  he,  the  blue  gray  eyes  glittering^ 
dangerously.     *'  I  presume  your  funds  are  there." 

"  It  was  because  the  quartermaster  would  not  open  it 
at  any  moment  that  I  took  them  out  and  placed  them 
elsewhere,"  hotly  answered  Field,  and  not  until  then  did 
Webb  remember  that  there  had  been  quite  a  fiery  talk,  fol- 
lowed by  hyperborean  estrangement,  between  his  two 
staff  officers,  and  now,  as  the  only  government  safe  at  the 
post  was  in  the  office  of  the  quartermaster,  and  the  only 
other  one  was  Bill  Hay's  big  "  Phoenix  "  at  the  store, 
it  dawned  upon  the  major  that  it  was  there  Mr.  Field  had 
stowed  his  packages  of  currency — a  violation  of  orders 
pure  and  simple — and  that  was  why  he  could  not  pro- 
duce the  money  on  the  spot.  Webb  reflected.  If  he  let 
Ray  start  at  dawn  and  held  Field  back  until  the  trader 
was  astir,  it  might  be  eight  o'clock  before  the  youngster 
could  set  forth.     By  that  time  Ray  would  be  perhaps  a 


48  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

dozen  miles  to  the  northward,  and  with  keen-eyed  Indian 
scouts  noting  the  march  of  the  troop  and  keeping  vigilant 
watch  for  possible  stragglers,  it  might  be  sending  the 
lad  to  certain  death,  for  Plodder  had  said  in  so  many 
words  the  Sioux  about  him  had  declared  for  war,  had 
butchered  three  ranchmen  on  the  Dry  Fork,  had  fired  on 
and  driven  in  his  herd  guards  and  wood  choppers,  and, 
what  started  with  Lane  Wolf's  big  band,  would  spread 
to  Stabber's  little  one  in  less  than  no  time,  and  what 
spread  to  Stabber's  would  soon  reach  a  host  of  the  Sioux. 
Moreover,  there  was  another  reason.  It  would  give  Field 
opportunity  for  further  conference  with — inmates  of  the 
trader's  household,  and  the  major  had  his  own  grave 
reasons  for  seeking  to  prevent  that. 

"  Your  written  order  will  be  sufficient,  Mr.  Field," 
said  he.  "  Send  me  memorandum  of  the  amounts  and  I 
will  receipt  at  once,  so  that  you  can  go  without  further 
thought  of  them.  And  now,"  with  a  glance  at  the 
clock,  "  you  have  hardly  half  an  hour  in  which  to  get 
ready." 

Raising  his  hand  in  mechanical  salute.  Field  faced 
about ;  cast  one  look  at  Blake,  standing  uncomfortably  at 
the  window,  and  then  strode  angering  away  to  his 
quarters,  smarting  under  a  sense  of  unmerited  rebuke  yet 
realizing  that,  as  matters  looked,  no  one  was  more  to 
blame  than  himself. 

Just  as  the  first  faint  flush  of  coming  day  was  mantling 
the  pallid  eastern  sky,  and  while  the  stars  still  sparkled 
aloft  and  the  big,  bright  moon  was  sinking  to  the  snow- 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  BAR  SHOE  49 

tipped  peaks  far  away  to  the  Occident,  in  shadowy  column 
a  troop  of  fifty  horse  filed  slowly  from  The  Sorrels'  big 
corral  and  headed  straight  for  the  Platte.  Swift  and  un- 
fordable  in  front  of  Frayne  in  the  earlier  summer,  the 
river  now  went  murmuring  sleepily  over  its  stony  bed,  and 
Ray  led  boldly  down  the  bank  and  plunged  girth  deep  into 
the  foaming  waters.  Five  minutes  more  and  every  man 
had  lined  up  safely  on  the  northward  bank.  In  low  tone 
the  order  was  given,  starting  as  Ray  ever  did,  in  solid  col- 
umn of  fours.  In  dead  silence  the  little  command  moved 
slowly  away,  followed  by  the  eyes  of  half  the  garrison  on 
the  bluflf.  Many  of  these  were  women  and  children,  who 
gazed  through  a  mist  of  tears.  Ray  turned  in  saddle  as 
the  last  of  his  men  went  by ;  looked  long  at  the  dim  light 
in  the  upper  window  of  his  home,  where,  clasping  her 
children  to  her  heart,  his  devoted  wife  knelt  watching 
them,  her  fond  lips  moving  in  ceaseless  prayer.  Dimly 
she  could  see  the  tried  leader,  her  soldier  husband,  sitting 
in  saddle  at  the  bank.  Bravely  she  answered  the  flutter 
of  his  handkerchief  in  farewell.  Then  all  was  swallowed 
up  in  the  shadows  of  the  distant  prairie,  and  from  the 
nursery  adjoining  her  room  there  rose  a  querulous  wail 
that  told  that  her  baby  daughter  was  waking,  indifferent 
to  the  need  that  sent  the  soldier  father  to  the  aid  of  distant 
comrades,  threatened  by  a  merciless  foe,  and  conscious 
only  of  her  infantile  demands  and  expectations.  Not  yet 
ten  years  wed,  that  brave,  devoted  wife  and  mother  had 
known  but  two  summers  that  had  not  torn  her  husband 
from  her  side  on  just  such  quest  and  duty,  for  these  were 


50  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

the  days  of  the  building  up  of  the  West,  resisted  to  the 
bitter  end  by  the  red  wards  of  the  nation. 

The  sun  was  just  peering  over  the  rough,  jagged  out- 
line of  the  eastward  buttes,  when  a  quick  yet  muffled  step 
was  heard  on  the  major's  veranda  and  a  picturesque  figure 
stood  waiting  at  the  door.  Scout,  of  course,  a  stranger 
would  have  said  at  a  glance,  for  from  head  to  foot  the 
man  was  clad  in  beaded  buckskin,  without  sign  of  soldier 
garb  of  any  kind.  Soldier,  too,  would  have  been  the  ex- 
pert testimony  the  instant  the  door  opened  and  the  com- 
manding officer  appeared.  Erect  as  a  Norway  pine  the 
strange  figure  stood  to  attention,  heels  and  knees  together, 
shoulders  squared,  head  and  eyes  straight  to  the  front,  the 
left  hand,  fingers  extended,  after  the  precise  teachings  of 
the  ante-bellum  days,  the  right  hand  raised  and  held  at 
the  salute.  Strange  figure  indeed,  yet  soldierly  to  the  last 
degree,  despite  the  oddity  of  the  entire  make-up.  The 
fur-trimmed  cap  of  embroidered  buckskin  sat  jauntily  on 
black  and  glossy  curls  that  hung  about  the  brawny  neck 
and  shoulders.  The  buckskin  coat,  heavily  fringed  as 
to  the  short  cape  and  the  shorter  skirt,  was  thickly  covered 
v/ith  Indian  embroidery  of  bead  and  porcupine  quill;  so, 
too,  were  the  fringed  trousers  and  leggings;  so,  too,  the 
moccasins,  soled  with  thick,  yet  pliant  hide.  Keen  black 
eyes  shone  from  beneath  heavy  black  brows,  just 
sprinkled,  as  were  the  thick  moustache  and  imperial,  with 
gray.  The  lean  jowls  were  closely  shaved.  The  nose 
was  straight  and  fine,  the  chin  square  and  resolute.  The 
face  and  hands  were  tanned  by  sun  and  wind  well  nigh 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  BAR  SHOE  5i 

as  dark  as  many  a  Sioux,  but  in  that  strange  garb  there 
stood  revealed  one  of  the  famous  sergeants  of  a  famous 
regiment,  the  veteran  of  a  quarter  century  of  service  with 
the  standard,  wounded  time  and  again,  bearing  the  scars 
of  Stuart's  sabre  and  of  Southern  lead,  of  Indian  arrow 
and  bullet  both;  proud  possessor  of  the  medal  of  honor 
that  many  a  senior  sought  in  vain ;  proud  as  the  Lucifer 
from  whom  he  took  his  Christian  name,  brave,  cool,  reso- 
lute and  ever  reliable — Schreiber,  First  Sergeant  of  old 
"  K  "  Troop  for  many  a  year,  faced  his  post  commander 
with  brief  and  characteristic  report: — 

"  Sir,  Chief  Stabber,  with  over  thirty  warriors, 
left  camp  about  three  o'clock,  heading  for  Eagle 
Butte.'' 

"  Well  done,  sergeant !  I  knew  I  could  count  on  you," 
answered  Webb,  in  hearty  commendation.  "  Now,  one 
thing  more.  Go  to  *  F '  Troop's  quarters  and  see  how 
Kennedy  is  faring.  He  came  in  with  despatches  from 
Fort  Beecher,  and  later  drank  more,  I  fancy,  than  was 
good  for  him,  for  which  I  assume  all  responsibility. 
Keep  him  out  of  mischief  this  morning." 

"  I  will,  sir,"  said  the  sergeant,  and  saluting  turned 
away  while  Webb  went  back  to  set  a  dismantled  pantry  in 
partial  order,  against  the  appearance  of  his  long-suffering 
house-keeper,  whose  comments  he  dreaded  as  he  did 
those  of  no  inspector  general  in  the  army.  For  fifteen 
years,  and  whithersoever  Webb  was  ordered,  his  bach- 
elor menage  had  been  presided  over  by  Mistress  Mar- 
garet McGann,  wife  of  a  former  trocper,  who  had  served 


52  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

as  Webb's  "  striker  "  for  so  many  a  year  in  the  earlier 
days  that,  when  discharged  for  disabiHty,due  to  wounds, 
rheumatism  and  advancing  years,  and  pensioned,  as  only 
Uncle  Sam  rewards  his  veterans,  McGann  had  begged  the 
major  to  retain  him  and  his  buxom  better  half  at  their  re- 
spective duties,  and  Webb  had  meekly,  weakly  yielded,  to 
the  end  that  in  the  fulness  of  time  Dame  Margaret  had 
achieved  an  ascendancy  over  the  distinguished  cavalry 
officer  little  short  of  that  she  had  exercised  over  honest 
Michael  since  the  very  day  she  consented  to  become  Mis- 
tress McGann.  A  sound  sleeper  was  she,  however,  and 
not  until  morning  police  call  was  she  wont  to  leave  her 
bed.  Then,  her  brief  toilet  completed,  she  would  descend 
to  the  kitchen  and  set  the  major's  coffee  on  the  fire, 
started  by  her  dutiful  spouse  an  hour  earlier.  Then  she 
proceeded  to  lay  the  table,  and  put  the  rooms  in  order 
against  the  major's  coming,  and  woe  betide  him  if  cigar 
stubs  littered  the  bachelor  sittingroom  or  unrinsed  glasses 
and  half  empty  decanters  told  of  even  moderate  symposium 
over  night.  Returning  that  eventful  morning  from  his 
office  at  first  call  for  reveille,  after  seeing  the  last  of 
Ray's  gallant  troop  as  it  moved  away  across  the  dim  vista 
of  the  northward  prairie,  Webb  had  been  concerned  to 
find  his  decanter  of  Monongahela  half  empty  on  the  pantry 
table  and  the  debris  of  a  hurried  feast  on  every  side. 
Kennedy,  who  had  begun  in  moderation,  must  have  felt 
the  need  of  further  creature  comfort  after  his  bout  with 
the  stalwart  Sioux,  and  had  availed  himself  to  the  limit 
of  his  capacity  of  the  major's  invitation.     Webb's  first 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  BAR  SHOE  53 

thought  was  to  partially  remove  the  traces  of  that  single- 
handed  spree;  then,  refilling  the  decanter  from  the  big 
five-gallon  demijohn,  kept  under  lock  and  key  in  the  cup- 
board— for  Michael,  too,  had  at  long  intervals  weaknesses 
of  his  own — he  was  thinking  how  best  to  protect  Kennedy 
from  the  consequences  of  his,  Webb's,  rash  invitation 
when  Schreiber's  knock  was  heard. 

Ten  minutes  more  and  the  sergeant  was  back  again. 

"  Sir,  I  have  to  report  that  Trooper  Kennedy  has  not 
been  seen  about  the  quarters,"  said  he. 

"  Then  try  the  stables,  sergeant,"  answered  the  veteran 
campaigner,  and  thither  would  Schreiber  next  have  gone, 
even  had  he  not  been  sent.  And,  sure  enough,  there 
was  Kennedy,  with  rueful  face  and  a  maudlin  romaunt 
about  a  moonlit  meeting  with  a  swarm  of  painted  Sioux, 
over  which  the  stable  guard  were  making  merry  and  stir- 
ring the  trooper's  soul  to  wrath  ungovernable. 

"  I  can  prove  ut,"  he  howled,  to  the  accompaniment  of 
clinching  fists  and  bellicose  lunges  at  the  laughing  tor- 
mentors nearest  him.  "  I  can  whip  the  hide  off 'n  the  scut 
that  says  I  didn't.  Ask  Lootn't  Field,  bejabers !  He 
saw  it.  Ask — Oh,  Mother  of  God!  what's  this  I'm  say- 
in'  ?  " — And  there,  with  stern,  rebuking  gaze,  stood  the 
man  they  knew  and  feared,  every  soul  of  them,  as  they  did 
no  commissioned  soldier  in  the  — th.  Sergeant  Schreiber, 
the  redoubtable,  and  Schreiber  had  heard  the  insane  and 
damaging  boast. 

"  Come  with  me,  Kennedy,"  was  all  he  said,  and  Ken- 
nedy snatched  his  battered  felt  headgear  down  over  his 


54  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

eyes  and  tacked  woefully  after  his  swift-striding  master, 
without  ever  another  word. 

But  it  was  to  his  own  room  Schreiber  took  the  unhappy 
Irishman,  not  to  the  quarters  of  Company  "  F."  He  had 
heard  words  that,  coupled  with  others  that  fell  through 
the  darkness  on  his  keenly  listening  ears  some  two  hours 
earlier,  had  given  him  cause  for  painful  thought.  "  Lie 
down  here,  Kennedy.  Pull  ofl  your  boots,"  said  he, 
"  and  if  you  open  your  fool  head  to  any  living  soul  until 
I  give  you  leave,  py  Gott — Fll  gill  you !  "  It  was 
Schreiber's  way,  like  Marryatt's  famous  Boatswain,  to 
beg^n  his  admonitions  in  exact  English,  and  then,  as 
wrath  overcame  him,  to  lapse  into  dialect. 

It  was  but  a*  few  minutes  after  seven  when  Major 
Webb,  having  previously  despatched  a  messenger  to  the 
post  trader's  to  say  he  had  need  to  see  Mr.  Hay  as  soon 
as  possible,  mounted  his  horse  and,  followed  by  Sergeant 
Schreiber  and  an  orderly,  rode  quietly  past  the  guard- 
house, touching  his  hat  to  the  shouted  "  Turn  out  the 
guard — commanding  officer  "  of  the  sentry  on  Number 
One.  Mr.  Hay  was  dressing  hurriedly,  said  the  servant, 
so  Webb  bade  Schreiber  and  the  orderly  ride  slowly  down 
to  the  flats  and  await  him  at  the  forks  of  the  road.  It 
was  but  five  minutes  before  Hay  appeared,  pulling  on  his 
coat  as  he  shot  from  the  door,  but  even  before  he  came 
the  major  had  been  carefully,  cautiously  scanning  the 
blinds  of  the  second  story,  even  while  feigning  deep  in- 
terest in  the  doings  of  a  little  squad  of  garrison  prisoners 
— the  inevitable  inmates  of  the  guardhouse  in  the  da3^s 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  BAR  SHOE  55 

before  we  had  our  safeguard  in  shape  of  the  soldier's 
ckib — the  post  exchange — and  now  again  in  the  days  that 
follow  its  ill-judged  extinction.  The  paymaster  had  been 
at  Frayne  but  five  days  earlier.  The  prison  room  was 
full  of  aching  heads,  and  Hay's  coffers'  of  hard-earned, 
ill-spent  dollars.  Webb  sighed  at  sight  of  the  crowded 
ranks  of  this  whimsically  named  "  Company  Q,"  but  in 
no  wise  relaxed  his  vigilance,  for  the  slats  of  the  blind 
of  the  corner  window  had  partially  opened.  He  had  had 
a  glimpse  of  feminine  fingers,  and  purposely  he  called 
Hay  well  out  into  the  road,  then  bent  down  over  him: 

"  All  your  horses  in  and  all  right,  this  morning.  Hay  ?  " 

"  None  have  been  out,"  said  Hay,  stoutly,  "  unless 
they've  gone  within  the  hour.  I  never  let  them  have  the 
keys,  you  know,  over  night.  Pete  brought  them  to  me 
at  eight  last  evening  and  got  'em  at  six  this  morning,  the 
usual  time." 

"  Where  does  he  get  them — without  waking  you  ?  " 
asked  Webb. 

"  They  hang  behind  the  door  in  my  sleeping  room. 
Pete  gets  them  when  he  takes  my  boots  to  black  at  six 
o'clock." 

"  Come  over  to  the  stables,"  said  the  commanding 
officer,  and,  wondering,  Hay  followed. 

They  found  the  two  hostlers  busily  at  work  grooming. 
In  his  box  stall,  bright  as  a  button,  was  "  Harney,"  Hay's 
famous  runner,  his  coat  smooth  as  satin.  Hay  went 
rapidly  from  stall  to  stall.  Of  the  six  saddlers  owned  by 
him  not  one  gave  the  faintest  sign  of  having  been  used 


56  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

over  night,  but  Webb,  riding  through  the  gangway,  noted 
that  "  Crapaud,"  the  French  halfbreed  grooming  in  the 
third  stall,  never  lifted  his  head.  Whatever  evidence  of 
night  riding  that  might  earlier  have  existed  had  been 
deftly  groomed  away.  The  trader  had  seen  suspicion  in 
the  soldier's  eye,  and  so  stood  forth,  triumphant : — 

"  No,  Major  Webb,"  said  he,  in  loud,  confident,  oracu- 
lar tone,  "  no  horse  of  mine  ever  gets  out  without  my 
knowing  it,  and  never  at  night  unless  you  or  I  so  order 
it." 

"No?"  queried  the  major,  placidly.  "Then  how  do 
you  account  for — this  ?  " 

Among  the  fresh  hoof  prints  in  the  yielding  sand,  with 
which  the  police  party  had  been  filling  the  ruts  of  the 
outer  roadway,  was  one  never  made  by  government  horse 
or  mule.  In  half  a  dozen  places  within  a  dozen  rods, 
plain  as  a  pikestaff,  was  the  print  of  a  bar  shoe,  worn  on 
the  off  fore  foot  of  just  one  quadruped  at  the  post — 
Hay's  swift  running  "  General  Harney." 


CHAPTER  V 

A   GRAVE   DISCOVERY 

ONLY  an  hour  was  the  major  away  from  his  post. 
He  came  back  in  time  for  guard  mounting  and 
the  reports  of  the  officers-of-the-day.  He  had 
reason  to  be  on  the  parade  at  the  "  assembly  of  the  de- 
tails," not  so  much  to  watch  the  work  of  the  post  adju- 
tant pro  tempore,  as  the  effect  of  the  sudden  and  unlooked 
for  change  on  certain  of  the  customary  spectators.  He 
had  swiftly  ridden  to  the  camp  of  the  recreant  Stabber 
and  purposely  demanded  speech  with  that  influential 
chieftain.  There  had  been  the  usual  attempt  on  part  of 
the  old  men  left  in  charge  to  hoodwink  and  to  temporize, 
but  when  sharply  told  that  Stabber,  with  his  warriors, 
had  been  seen  riding  away  toward  Eagle  Butte  at  three  in 
the  morning,  the  sages  calmly  confessed  judgment,  but 
declared  they  had  no  other  purpose  than  a  hunt  for  a 
drove  of  elk  reported  seen  about  the  famous  Indian  race 
course  in  the  lower  hills  of  the  Big  Horn.  Circling  the 
camp,  however,  Webb  had  quickly  counted  the  pony  tracks 
across  the  still  dewy  bunchgrass  of  the  bench,  and  found 
Schreiber's  estimate  substantially  correct.  Then,  stop- 
ping at  the  lodge  of  Stabbers's    uncle,    old    "  Spotted 

57 


58  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

Horse,"  where  that  superannuated  but  still  sagacious  chief 
was  squatted  on  his  blanket  and  ostentatiously  puffing 
a  long  Indian  pipe,  Webb  demanded  to  know  what  young 
men  remained  in  the  village.  Over  a  hundred  strong,  old 
men,  squaws  and  children,  they  thronged  about  him, 
silent,  big-eyed  and  attentive,  Schreiber  interpreting  as 
best  he  could,  resorting  to  the  well-known  sign  language 
when  the  crafty  Sioux  professed  ignorance  of  the  mean- 
ing of  his  words  : — 

"  No  young  men.  All  gone,"  was  the  positive  declara- 
tion of  the  venerable  head  of  the  bailiwick,  when  com- 
pelled at  last  to  answer.  But  Schreiber  had  studied  the 
pony  herd  and  knew  better.  Moreover,  not  more  than 
six  of  their  ponies  had  been  led  along  with  the  war  party 
that  set  forth  in  the  early  hours  of  the  moonlit  morning. 
Others,  both  men  and  mounts,  unavoidably  left  behind, 
would  surely  be  sent  forward  at  the  first  possible  oppor- 
tunity, and,  much  as  Webb  might  wish  to  turn  back  to 
capture  the  party,  well  as  he  might  know  that  other  bands 
were  in  revolt  and  Stabber  gone  to  help  them,  he  was 
powerless  under  his  orders  to  interfere  until  by  some 
openly  hostile  act  these  laggards  of  the  little  band  in- 
vited his  reprisal.  The  rule  of  the  road,  as  prescribed  by 
the  civil  authorities,  to  which  the  soldier  had  sworn  obedi- 
ence, being  practically,  "  Don't  defend  until  you  are  hit. 
Don't  shoot  until  you  are  shot." 

Webb  came  cantering  back  assured  that  these  frowsy, 
malodorous  lodges  concealed,  perhaps,  half  a  score  of 
fighting  men  who  were  a  menace  to  the  neighborhood  and 


A  GRAVE  DISCOVERY  59 

who  could  be  counted  on  to  make  it  more  than  interesting 
for  any  couriers  that  might  have  to  be  sent  between  the 
fort  and  the  forces  at  the  front.  Calling  Schreiber  to 
his  side,  as,  with  long  easy  stride  their  trained  mounts 
went  loping  swiftly  homeward,  he  gave  instructions  the 
veteran  heard  with  kindling  eyes.  Then,  parting  from 
him  at  the  corrals,  the  commander  rode  on  and  dis- 
mounted at  his  quarters  just  as  the  trumpeters  were  form- 
ing on  the  broad,  grassy  level  of  the  parade. 

Even  without  a  band  young  Field  had  managed  to  make 
his  guard  mount  a  pretty  and  attractive  ceremony. 
Frayne  was  a  big  post  and  needed  a  daily  guard  of 
twenty-four  men,  with  the  usual  quota  of  non-commis- 
sioned officers.  Cowboys,  herders,  miners,  prospectors, 
rustlers  (those  pirates  of  the  plains)  and  occasional  bands 
of  Indians,  Sioux  or  Arapahoe,  were  forever  hovering 
about  its  borders  in  search  of  supplies,  solid  or  fluid,  and 
rarely  averse  to  the  conversion  of  public  property  to  per- 
sonal use.  Like  many  a  good  citizen  of  well-ordered 
municipalities  within  the  confines  of  civilization,  they  held 
that  what  belonged  to  the  government  belonged  to  them, 
and  the  fact  that  some  officer  would  have  to  pay  for  what- 
soever they  stole,  from  a  horse  to  a  hammer,  cut  no  figure 
in  their  deliberations.  Frayne  had  long  been  a  favorite 
place  for  fitting  out  depleted  stock,  animal,  vegetable  or 
mineral,  and  there  had  been  times  when  Webb  found  as 
many  as  forty  men  almost  too  small  a  guard,  and  so  gave 
it  to  be  understood  that  sentries  whose  carbines  were  un- 
lawfully discharged  at  night,  without  the  formality  of  pre- 


66  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

liminary  challenge  or  other  intimation  of  business  in- 
tentions, would  be  held  blameless,  provided  they  had  some- 
thing to  show  for  their  shot.  A  remarkable  feature  of 
the  winter's  depredation  had  been  that  Hay's  corral  was 
never  molested,  although  unguarded  by  the  garrison  and 
quite  as  much  exposed  as  the  most  remote  of  the  gov- 
ernment shops,  shanties  or  stables. 

Field  mounted  his  guard,  except  in  cold  or  stormy 
weather,  in  full  uniform,  and  the  daily  "  march  past "  in 
review  brought  many  of  the  garrison  ladies,  most  of  the 
children  and  all  of  the  dogs  to  the  scene.  Some  of  the 
households  breakfasted  just  before, — some  just  after — 
guard  mounting,  but,  as  a  rule,  no  one  sat  at  table  when 
almost  everybody  else  was  gathered  along  the  westward 
edge  of  the  broad  parade,  It  was  there  the  plans  for 
the  social  day  were  discussed  and  determined.  Rides, 
drives,  hunts  or  picnics  away  from  the  post;  dances, 
dinners,  croquet  or  tennis  within  the  garrison  limits.  It 
was  the  hour  when  all  the  girls  were  out,  looking  fair  and 
fresh  as  daisies,  and  while  the  mothers  sedately  gossiped 
along  the  row  of  broad  verandas,  their  daughters  blithely 
chatted  in  little  groups,  or,  as  might  often  be,  paced  slowly 
with  downcast  eyes  and  mantling  cheeks  at  the  side  of 
some  young  gallant  who  had  no  thought  for  other  duty 
than  that  of  the  thrilling  moment.  And  here  they  were, 
well  nigh  a  dozen  of  them,  of  all  ages  from  twelve  to 
twenty,  as  the  major  sent  his  mount  to  the  stables  and 
made  quick  survey  of  the  scene,  and  a  moment's  glance 
was  sufficient  to  show  that  among  them  all  there  was 


A  GRAVE  DISCOVERY  6i 

stir  and  excitement  beyond  that  which  would  be  caused 
by  so  common  an  incident  as  the  sending  forth  of  a  troop 
on  scout. 

It  was  the  fact  that  Field  had  gone  and  that  young 
Ross  was  acting  in  his  place  that  set  them  all  to  specu- 
lating on  the  cause.  One  of  their  number,  promenad- 
ing with  Lieutenant  Hartley,  glanced  up  at  Major  Webb 
as  they  passed  him  by,  with  such  a  world  of  mingled 
question  and  reproach  in  her  soft  blue  eyes  that  his  heart 
for  the  moment  smote  him.  He  had  never  seen  Esther 
Dade  looking  so  languid  or  so  wan,  yet  more  of  her  and 
for  her  had  he  been  thinking  during  the  week  gone  by 
than  of  any  other  girl  in  or  out  of  the  army.  To-day, 
however,  there  was  another  he  eagerly  sought  to  see,  and, 
with  something  akin  to  keen  disappointment,  noted  that 
she  was  not  among  the  strollers  along  the  board  walk  or 
the  chatting  groups  about  the  steps  and  gateways.  Not 
once  during  her  brief  visit  had  she  as  yet  missed  guard 
mounting.  Now  her  absence  was  significant.  In  the 
very  eyes  of  the  little  party  hastening  toward  him — three 
young  girls  and  a  brace  of  subalterns — he  read  question 
and  cross-question,  and  was  thankful  to  see  Hay,  the 
trader,  trudging  up  the  walk  to  join  him.  So  seldom  did 
the  old  frontiersman  enter  the  quadrangle  that  people 
remarked  upon  his  coming; — remarked  still  more  when 
Webb  hurried  down  to  meet  him. 

"  You're  right  about  the  horses,  major,"  said  Hay, 
mopping  a  moist  and  troubled  face  with  a  big  bandana. 
"  My  racer  and  my  best  single  footer,  Dan,  were  out  last 


62  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

night.  Dan's  saddle  cloth  was  wet  and  so  was  Harney's. 
Some  one  outside  has  got  false  keys, — I'll  put  new  pad- 
locks on  at  once, — but  for  the  life  of  me  I  can't  think  who 
would  play  me  such  a  trick.  To  steal  the  horses, — run 
'em  off  to  Rawlins  or  up  the  Sweetwater  or  off  to  the 
Hills — I  could  understand  that!  but  to  borrow  them  for 
an  hour  or  two, — why,  it  beats  me  hollow !  "  And  Hay 
in  deep  perplexity  leaned  against  the  low  fence  and  almost 
imploringly  gazed  into  the  major's  face.  They  all  leaned 
on  Webb. 

"  Any  idea  who  they  were  ?  "  asked  the  commander. 

"  Not  the  skin  of  a  shadow,  'cept  that  one  man  rode 
shorter  stirrups'n  I  do.  They  forgot  to  set  'em  back. 
They  had  my  California  saddle  on  Dan  and  that  light 
Whitman  of  mine  on  Harney." 

"  Sure  it  was  two  men  ? "  queried  Webb,  looking 
straight  into  the  trader's  eyes. 

"  What  else  could  it  be?"  demanded  Hay,  in  no  little 
excitement. 

"  Well,  I  thought  possibly  Miss  Flower  might  have 
been  moved  to  take  a  moonlight  ride.  No  reason  why 
she  shouldn't,  you  know,  and  not  wishing  to  disturb 
you " 

"  Then  she  would  have  used  her  own  sidesaddle. 
What's  she  doing  with  a  man's  ?  Besides,  she'd  have  told 
me!" 

"  Oh  !  You've  seen  her  then  this  morning  ?  I  thought 
perhaps  she  wasn't  up,"  hazarded  Webb. 

"  Up  ?     Why,  hang  k,  she  was  up  at  daybreak — up 


A  GRAVE  DISCOVERY  63 

hours  ago,  my  wife  says.  Haven't  you  seen  her?  She's 
over  here  somewhere  ?  " 

No,  Webb  had  not  seen  her,  and  together  the  two 
started  in  search,  first  to  the  flagstaff,  and  there  at  the 
point  of  bhiff  beyond  the  Rays', — there  she  stood,  gazing 
up  the  Platte  toward  the  Indian  village  through  a  pair  of 
signal  glasses  that  weighed  heavily  in  her  daintily  gloved 
hands.  Captain  Tracy,  a  bachelor  assistant  surgeon, 
stood  faithfully  by  her  side,  listening  to  her  lively  chat- 
ter, with  ears  that  absorbed  and  eyes  that  worshipped. 

"  Come  away,"  said  Webb.  "  I  have  an  order  on  you 
for  Field's  currency  in  your  safe.  When  are  you  going 
to  try  to  get  your  cash  to  bank  ?  "  And  Webb  keenly 
eyed  his  man  as  he  asked  the  question. 

"  To-morrow  or  next  day  sure, — even  if  I  have  to  go 
part  way  with  the  stage  myself.  When  do  you  want  this 
money  ? "  said  Hay,  tapping  the  envelope  Webb  had 
given  him. 

"  Well,  now,  if  agreeable  to  you.  I  prefer  to  keep  such 
funds  at  the  quartermaster's.  Oh — Good  morning,  Mrs. 
Ray!"  he  cheerily  called,  lifting  his  cap,  at  sight  of  a 
young  matron  at  an  upper  window.  "  Can  you  see  them 
still  ?  "  he  added,  for  the  elder  of  the  two  boys  was  peer- 
ing through  a  long  telescope,  perched  on  its  brass  tripod 
upon  a  little  shelf  projecting  from  the  sill.  Many  a  time 
had  the  "  Rays'  spyglass  "  been  the  last  to  discern  some 
departing  troop  as  it  crossed  the  low  divide  ten  miles 
away  to  the  north.  Many  a  time  had  the  first  an- 
nouncement of  "  courier  coming  "  reached  headquarters 


64  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

through  Master  Sandy,  the  first  born  of  their  olive 
branches.  There  were  unshed  tears  in  the  gentle  voice 
that  answered.  There  was  wordless  anxiety  in  the  sweet, 
pallid  face  that  smiled  so  bravely  through  its  sorrow. 
"  The  troop  passed  out  of  sight  quarter  of  an  hour  ago, 
major,"  said  Mrs.  Ray.  "  But  Sandy  could  see  the 
flankers  on  their  left  until  within  the  last  five  min- 
utes." 

''  Way  out  on  their  left,  major !  "  interposed  that  young 
gentleman,  big  with  importance.  "  If  old  Stabber  tries 
any  of  his  tricks  with  that  troop  he'll — he'll  get  his  belly 
full !  "  and  Master  Sandy  plainly  intimated  both  in  tone 
and  manner,  not  to  mention  the  vernacular  of  the  soldier, 
that  Stabber  might  take  liberties  with  any  other  troop  or 
company  at  the  post,  but  would  best  beware  of  Daddy's. 
And  yet,  not  three  months  agone  he  had  stoutly  taken 
up  the  cudgels  for  the  Frayne  garrison,  as  a  whole,  against 
the  field,  the  wordy  battle  with  the  son  and  heir  of  the 
colonel  commanding  at  Laramie  culminating  in  a  combat 
only  terminated  by  the  joint  efforts  of  the  stable  sergeant 
and  sentry,  for  both  youngsters  were  game  as  their  sires. 
What  Sandy  Ray  was  now  praying  to  see  was  an  attack 
by  Stabber's  band  upon  the  isolated  troop,  but  Stabber,  it 
may  be  said,  knew  a  trick  worth  ten  of  that.  There 
was  no  sense  in  pitching  into  the  sorrel  troop  on  even 
terms  when  by  waiting  another  day,  perhaps,  and  the 
ansv/er  of  Lame  Wolf  to  the  appeal  of  his  speedy  mes- 
senger, he  might  outnumber  and  overwhelm  them  with 
five  to  one. 


A  GRAVE  DISCOVERY  65 

"  We  should  be  hearing  from  Omaha  and  Laramie  by 
ten  o'clock,  Mrs.  Ray/'  said  the  major,  reassuringly, 
"  and  I  will  send  you  word  at  once.  And,  of  course. 
Corporal  Ray,"  he  continued,  and  now  with  martial 
formality  addressing  the  lad  at  the  telescope,  "  I  can  rely 
upon  you  to  report  at  once  in  case  you  see  anything 
suspicious  toward  the  Big  Horn." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  boy,  straightening  up  to  at- 
tention. Then,  scrupulously  exchanging  salutes,  the  old 
soldier  and  the  young  parted  company,  and  the  major 
returned  to  receive  the  reports  of  the  old  and  new  officers 
of  the  day.  These  gentlemen  were  still  with  him,  Cap- 
tain Chew,  of  the  Infantry,  and  the  senior  first  lieutenant 
for  duty  with  the  — th,  when  Hay  came  hurrying  up 
the  board  walk  from  the  direction  of  the  store.  For 
reasons  of  his  own,  Webb  had  sent  his  orderly  to  the 
guard-house  to  say  to  the  officers  in  question  that  he 
would  await  them  at  his  quarters  instead  of  the  little 
building  known  as  the  adjutant's  office,  in  which  were  the 
offices  of  the  commander,  the  record  room  in  which  were 
placed  the  desks  of  the  sergeant-major  and  his  three 
clerks,  and  the  sleeping  rooms  of  the  special  duty  soldiers, 
It  had  happened  more  than  once  in  the  past  that  garrison 
stories  of  matters  not  supposed  to  be  known  outside  the 
office  had  been  traced  back  to  that  desk  room,  and  now 
Webb's  questions  of  his  old  officer  of  the  day,  and  his 
instructions  to  the  new  were  not  things  he  cared  to  have 
bruited  about  the  post.  He  was  listening  intently  to  the 
captain's  report  of  the  sentries'  observations  during  the 


66  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

night  gone  by  when  Hay  reached  the  gate  and  stopped, 
not  wishing  to  intrude  at  such  a  moment. 

"  Come  in,  Mr.  Hay,"  said  the  commander,  cordially. 
"  This  all  will  interest  you,"  and,  thus  bidden,  the  trader 
joined  the  soldiers  three  on  the  veranda,  and  some  of  the 
young  people  of  the  garrison,  setting  up  their  croquet 
arches  on  the  parade,  looked  curiously  toward  the  group, 
and  wondered  what  should  keep  the  old  officer-of-the-day 
so  long.  Sauntering  down  the  walk,  smiling  radiantly 
upon  the  occupants  of  the  various  verandas  that  she 
passed,  then  beaming  between  times  into  the  face  of  her 
smitten  escort,  her  black  eyes  and  white  teeth  flashing  in 
the  rare  sunshine,  Nanette  Flower  was  gradually  nearing 
the  major's  quarters.  She  was  barely  twenty  yards  away 
when,  in  obedience  to  some  word  of  the  major,  Mr.  Hay 
held  forth  two  white  packages  that,  even  at  the  distance, 
could  be  recognized,  so  far  as  the  outer  covering  was  con- 
cerned, as  official  envelopes.  She  was  too  far  away,  per- 
haps, to  hear  what  was  said. 

"  It  seems,"  began  Webb,  to  his  officers,  as  he  mechani- 
cally opened  the  first  packet,  "  that  Field  took  fire  at 
Wilkins's  growls  about  the  bother  of  keeping  his  funds, 
so  the  youngster  stowed  his  money  with  Hay.  He  in- 
sisted on  turning  over  everything  before  he  left,  so  I 
receipted  to  him.  Let's  see,"  he  continued,  glancing  at 
the  memorandum  in  his  hand.  ''  Three  hundred  and  sev- 
enty-two dollars  and  eighty-five  cents  post  fund,  and 
four  hundred  belonging  to  various  enlisted  men.  I  may 
as  well  count  it  in  your  presence." 


A  GRAVE  DISCOVERY  67 

By  this  time  the  long,  lean  fingers  had  ripped  open 
the  package  marked  four  hundred,  and  were  extracting 
the  contents, — a  sheet  of  official  paper  with  figures  and 
memoranda,  and  then  a  flat  package,  apparently,  of  cur- 
rency. Topmost  was  a  five  dollar  treasury  note ;  bottom- 
most another  of  the  same  denomination.  Between  them, 
deftly  cut,  trimmed  and  sized,  were  blank  slips  of  paper 
to  the  number  of  perhaps  thirty  and  the  value  of  not  one 
cent.  With  paling  faces  the  officers  watched  the  trem- 
bling fingers  slash  open  the  second,  its  flap,  as  was  that  of 
the  first  envelope,  securely  gummed, — not  sealed.  A 
nickel  or  two  and  a  few  dimes  slid  out  before  the  packet 
came.  It  was  of  like  consistency,  with  the  first — and  of 
about  the  same  value.  Webb  lifted  up  his  eyes  and  looked 
straight  into  the  amazed, — almost  livid,  face  of  the  trader. 

"  My  God !  Major  Webb,"  cried  Hay,  aghast  and  be- 
wildered. *'  Don't  look  at  me  like  that !  No  man  on  earth 
has  ever  accused  me  of  a  crime.  This  means  that  not 
only  my  stable  but  my  safe  has  been  robbed, — and  there 
is  a  traitor  within  my  gates." 

Dr.  Tracy,  absorbed  in  contemplation  of  Miss  Flower's 
radiant  face,  and  in  the  effort  to  make  his  own  words 
eloquent,  had  no  ears  for  those  of  others.  He  never 
heeded  the  trader's  excited  outburst.  He  only  saw  her 
suddenly  flinch,  suddenly  pale,  then  sway.  His  ready 
arm  was  round  her  in  a  twinkling.  In  a  twinkling  she 
twisted  free  from  the  undesired  clasp. 

"  Just — my  foot  turned ! — a  pebble !  "  she  gasped. 

But  when,  all  assiduity,  Tracy  would  have  seated  her 


68  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

on  the  horseblock  and  examined  the  delicate  ankle,  she 
refused  straightway,  and  with  almost  savage  emphasis, 
and  with  rigid  lips  from  which  all  loveliness  had  fled, 
bade  him  lead  on  home,  where,  despite  protest  and  appeal, 
personal  and  professional,  she  dismissed  him  curtly. 


CHAPTER  VI 

FIRST    SIGHT    OF    THE    FOE 

RAY'S  gallant  half  hundred,  as  has  been  said,  took 
the  route  for  the  north  at  break  of  day.  Before 
them  spread  the  open  prairie,  apparently  level 
and  unbroken  for  full  five  miles  to  the  front  and  either 
flank,  the  distant  slopes  and  ridges  bounding  the  level 
expanse  growing  more  distinct  with  every  moment,  and 
presently  lighting  up  in  exulting  radiance  in  response  to 
the  rosy  blushes  of  the  eastward  sky.  Scorning  the  dusty 
stage  road,  the  troop  commander  pointed  to  a  distant 
height  just  visible  against  the  northward  horizon,  bade 
the  leading  guide  march  straight  on  that;  then  gave  the 
order  "  Right  by  Twos,"  that  he  might  the  more  readily 
note  the  gait  and  condition  of  every  horse  and  the  bear- 
ing and  equipment  of  his  rider.  There  was  still  time 
to  weed  out  weaklings  of  either  class  should  any  such 
there  be.  Riding  slowly  along  the  left  flank,  one  after 
another,  he  carefully  scanned  every  man  and  mount  in 
his  little  detachment,  then,  at  quicker  pace,  passed  around 
to  the  eastward  side  of  the  column,  and  as  critically, 
carefully  studied  them  from  that  point  of  view.  A  light 
of  quiet  satisfaction  shone  in  his  fine,  dark  eyes  as  he 

6q 


70  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

finished,  for,  next  to  his  wife  and  children,  that  troop 
was  Ray's  supreme  deUght.  The  preliminary  look-over 
by  lantern  light  had  been  all  sufficient.  This  later  in- 
spection on  the  move  revealed  not  a  steed  amiss,  not  an 
item  of  equipment  either  misplaced  or  lacking.  "  Steady 
as  planets,"  barring  the  irrepressible  tendency  of  some 
young,  high-spirited  horse  to  dance  a  bit  until  quieted 
by  the  monotony  of  the  succeeding  miles,  at  quick,  light- 
hoofed  walk,  the  sorrels  tripped  easily  along  in  precise, 
yet  companionable  couples.  "  One  yard  from  head  to 
croup,"  said  the  drill  book  of  the  day,  and,  but  for  that, 
the  riders  might  have  dropped  their  reins  upon  the  pom- 
mel as  practically  unnecessary.  But,  for  the  first  hour 
or  so,  at  least,  the  tendency  toward  the  rear  of  column 
was  ever  to  crowd  upon  the  file  leaders,  a  proceeding 
resented,  not  infrequently,  in  less  disciplined  commands 
than  Ray's,  by  well-delivered  kicks,  or  at  least  such  signs 
of  equine  disapprobation  as  switching  tail  or  set-back 
ears.  But  Ray's  troop  horses  moved  like  so  many  ma- 
chines, so  constant  and  systematic  had  been  their  drill; 
and  Ray's  men  rode  in  the  perfection  of  uniform,  so  far  as 
armament  and  equipment  were  concerned.  Each  great- 
coat, precisely  rolled,  was  strapped  with  its  encircling 
poncho  at  the  pommel.  Each  blanket,  as  snugly  packed, 
with  the  sidelines  festooned  upon  the  top,  was  strapped  at 
the  cantle.  Lariat  and  picket  pin,  coiled  and  secured, 
hung  from  the  near  side  of  the  pommel.  The  canteen, 
suspended  from  its  snap  hook,  hung  at  the  off  side. 
Saddle-bags,  with  extra  horse  shoes,  nails,  socks,  under- 


FIRST  SIGHT  OF  THE  FOE  71 

wear,  brushes  and  comb,  extra  packages  of  carbine  and 
revolver  cartridges  and  minor  impedimenta,  equally  dis- 
tributed as  to  weight,  swung  from  the  cantle  and  under- 
neath the  blanket  roll.  From  the  broad,  black  leather 
carbine  sling,  over  each  trooper's  left  shoulder,  the  hard- 
shooting  brown  barrelled  little  Springfield  hung  sus- 
pended, its  muzzle  thrust,  as  was  the  fashion  of  the  day, 
into  the  crude  socket  imposed  so  long  upon  our  frontier 
fighters  by  officials  who  had  never  seen  the  West,  save, 
as  did  a  certain  writer  of  renown,  from  a  car  window, 
thereby  limiting  their  horizon.  Ray  despised  that  socket 
as  he  did  the  Shoemaker  bit,  but  believed,  with  Presi- 
dent Grant,  that  the  best  means  to  end  obnoxious  laws 
was  their  rigorous  enforcement.  Each  man's  revolver, 
a  trusty  brown  Colt,  hung  in  its  holster  at  the  right  hip. 
Each  man  was  girt  with  ammunition  belt  of  webbing,  the 
device  of  an  old-time  Yankee  cavalryman  that  has  been 
copied  round  the  world,  the  duU-hued  copper  cartridges 
bristling  from  every  loop.  Each  man  wore,  as  was  pre- 
scribed, the  heavy,  cumbrous  cavalry  boot  of  the  day  and 
generation,  but  had  stowed  in  his  saddle-bags  light  moc- 
casins and  leggings  with  which  to  replace  them  when, 
farther  afield,  their  clear-headed  commander  should  give 
the  word.  Each  man,  too,  wore  the  gauntlets  of  Indian- 
tanned  buckskin,  a  special  pattern  that  Ray  had  been 
permitted  to  use  experimentally.  Each  man  was  clad  in 
dark  blue  flannel  shirt  and  blouse,  the  latter  soon  prob- 
ably to  be  stored  with  the  big,  weighty  boots  in  Truscott's 
saddle  room  at  Beecher,  with,  probably  too,  many  of  the 


^2  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

light  blue  riding  breeches,  saddle-pieced  with  canvas — 
the  uniform  at  the  start  destined,  in  the  case  of  veteran 
troopers,  at  least,  to  be  shed  in  favor  of  brown  duck 
hunting  trousers,  or  even,  among  certain  extremists, 
fringed,  beaded  and  embroidered  buckskin,  than  which 
the  present  chronicler  knows  no  more  uncomfortable 
garb  when  soaked  by  pelting  rains  or  immersion  in  some 
icy  mountain  stream.  Even  the  brown  campaign  hats, 
uniformly  "  creased,"  as  the  fifty  left  the  ford,  would 
soon  be  knocked  out  of  all  semblance  to  the  prescribed 
shape,  and  made  at  once  comfortable  and  serviceable. 
Add  to  these  items  the  well-filled  haversack  and  battered 
tin  quart  cup,  (for  on  a  forced  march  of  two  or  three 
days  Captain  Ray  would  have  no  pack  mules,)  and  the 
personal  equipment  of  his  men  was  complete.  As  for  the 
mounts,  each  sorrel  tripped  easily  along  under  the  sex- 
tuple folds  of  the  saddle  blanket,  and  the  black-skinned 
McClellan  saddle  tree,  with  its  broad  horse-hair  cincha 
and  hooded  wooden  stirrups,  minus  the  useless  skirts 
and  sweat  leathers.  Neither  breast  strap,  crupper  nor 
martingale  hampered  the  free  movements  of  the  sturdy, 
stocky  little  weight  carriers.  The  black,  single-reined 
curb  bridle,  fastened  as  to  the  throat  latch  by  a  light 
buckle,  was  slipped  on  over  the  headstall  of  the  so-called 
watering  bridle,  whose  toggled  and  detachable  snaffle 
bit  was  generally  "  toted  "  from  start  to  finish  of  a  field 
scout  in  the  saddle  bags, — a  twist  of  the  flexible  lariat, 
Indian  fashion,  between  the  complaisant  jaws  of  his  pet, 
being  the  troop's  ready  substitute.    Add  to  this  that,  full, 


FIRST  SIGHT  OF  THE  FOE  73 

free  and  unmutilated,  in  glossy  waves  the  beautiful  manes 
and  tails  tossed  in  the  upland  breeze  (for  the  heresies  of 
Anglomania  never  took  root  in  the  American  cavalry) 
and  you  have  Ray's  famous  troop  as  it  looked,  fresh 
started  from  old  Fort  Frayne  this  glorious  autumn  morn- 
ing of  188-,  and  with  a  nod  of  approbation,  and  "  It 
couldn't  be  better,  sergeant,"  to  his  devoted  right  hand 
man,  the  veteran  senior  non-commissioned  officer  of  the 
troop,  Ray  rang  out  the  command  "  At  ease,"  and  placed 
himself  beside  the  silent  young  lieutenant  at  the  head  of 
column. 

As  has  been  said,  Ray's  senior  subaltern  was  on  de- 
tached service.  His  junior,  Mr.  Clayton,  had  joined  but 
the  year  before,  and  this  threw  Mr.  Field  in  command  of 
the  leading  platoon  and  to  the  side  of  the  leading  guide. 
Now,  as  the  senior  officer  took  the  head  of  column  and 
Mr.  Clayton  fell  back  to  the  rear,  the  silence  of  the  first 
mile  of  march  was  broken  and,  though  sitting  erect  in 
saddle  and  forbidden  to  lounge  or  "  slouch,"  the  troop  be- 
gan its  morning  interchange  of  chaff  and  comment. 
Every  mother's  son  of  them  rejoiced  to  be  once  more 
afield  with  a  chance  of  stirring  work  ahead. 

*'  It's  time  to  throw  out  our  advance,  Field,"  said  Ray, 
in  kindly,  cordial  tone,  as  he  scanned  the  low  divide  still 
some  miles  ahead  and  reined  in  beside  the  stern-faced 
young  soldier.  "  Send  Sergeant  Scott  forward  with  three 
men  and  the  same  number  on  each  flank — corporals  in 
charge." 

He  had  more  than  liked  Webb's  adjutant.     He  had. 


74  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

been  his  stanchest  friend  and  supporter  among  the  troop 
and  company  commanders,  and  was  eager  to  befriend 
him  now.  He  had  expressed  no  wish  to  have  him  sent 
on  the  hurried  move,  but  well  he  knew  the  post  com- 
mander's reasons  and  approved  his  course.  Still,  now 
that  Field  was  being  removed,  for  the  time  at  least,  from 
the  possibility  of  an  entangling  alliance  that  might  prove 
disastrous,  in  every  way  in  his  power  Ray  meant  to  show 
the  mortified,  indeed  sorely  angered,  officer  that  his  per- 
sonal regard  for  him  had  suffered  no  change  whatever. 
If  he  could  succeed  in  winning  Field's  confidence  it  might 
well  be  that  he  could  bring  him  to  see  that  there  were 
good  and  sufficient  grounds  for  the  post  commander's 
action — that  for  Field's  own  good,  in  fact,  it  was  a  most 
desirable  move.  The  soul  of  loyalty  and  square  dealing 
himself,  Ray  had  never  for  a  moment  dreamed  that  any- 
thing other  than  a  foolish  escapade  had  occurred — a  ride 
by  moonlight,  perhaps,  demanded  of  her  devotee  by  a 
thoughtless,  thoroughbred  coquette,  whose  influence  over 
the  young  fellow  was  beginning  to  mar  his  usefulness,  if 
not  indeed  his  future  prospects.  Just  what  to  think  of 
Nanette  Flower  Ray  really  did  not  know.  Marion,  his 
beloved  better  half,  was  his  unquestioned  authority  in 
all  such  matters,  and  it  was  an  uncommon  tenet  of  that 
young  matron  never  to  condemn  until  she  had  cause. 
Instinctively  she  shrank  from  what  she  had  seen  of  Miss 
Flower,  even  though  her  woman's  eye  rejoiced  in  the 
elegance  of  Miss  Flower's  abundant  toilets ;  and,  conscious 
of  her  intuitive  aversion,  she  would  utter  no  word  that 


FIRST  SIGHT  OF  THE  FOE  75 

might  later  prove  unjust.  Oddly  enough,  that  instinctive 
aversion  was  shared  by  her  closest  friend  and  neighbor, 
Mrs.  Blake ;  but,  as  yet,  the  extent  of  their  condemnation 
had  found  vent  only  in  the  half  whimsical,  half  petulant 
expression  on  part  of  the  younger  lady — Blake's  beauti- 
ful wife,  "  I  wish  her  name  weren't — so  near  like  mine," 
for  "  Nan  "  had  been  her  pet  name  almost  from  baby- 
hood. Vaguely  conscious  were  they  both,  these  lords  of 
creation,  Messrs.  Blake  and  Ray,  that  the  ladies  of  their 
love  did  not  approve  of  Miss  Flower,  but  Ray  had  ridden 
forth  without  ever  asking  or  knowing  why,  and  so,  un- 
knowing, was  ill  prepared  to  grapple  with  the  problem 
set  before  him.  It  is  easier  to  stem  a  torrent  with  a 
shingle  than  convince  a  lover  that  his  idol  is  a  shrew. 

Without  a  word  of  reply.  Field  reined  out  of  column, 
glanced  along  the  double  file  of  his  platoon,  nodded  a 
signal  "  Fall  out "  to  Sergeant  Scott,  and  the  men  nearest 
him  at  the  front,  merely  said  "  Advance  guard,"  and 
then  proceeded  to  choose  his  corporals  and  men  for  flank- 
ers. No  need  to  tell  Scott  what  to  do !  He  had  been 
leading  scouts  in  Arizona  long  ere  Field  had  even 
dreamed  of  West  Point.  In  five  minutes,  riding  at  easy 
lope,  carbines  advanced,  three  little  parties  of  four  troop- 
ers each  were  spreading  far  out  to  the  front  and  flank, 
guarding  the  little  column  against  the  possibility  of  sud- 
den assault  from  hidden  foe.  Here  upon  the  level  prairie 
one  would  think  such  precaution  needless,  but  every  acre 
of  the  surface  was  seamed  and  gullied  by  twisting  little 
water  courses,  dry  as  a  chip  at  the  moment,  and  some  of 


76  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

them  so  deep  as  to  afford  cover  even  for  the  biggest  pony 
of  the  wild  v^arriors  of  the  plains.  Then,  to  the  front, 
the  barrier  ridges,  streaked  with  deep  winding  ravines, 
were  now  billowing  against  the  northward  sky,  and  once 
among  those  tangled  land  waves  no  chances  could  be 
taken  now  that  it  was  known  that  the  Sioux  had  de- 
clared for  war,  and  that  Stabber's  band  was  out  to  join 
their  red  brethren  in  the  oft  recurring  outbreak.  Until 
their  lands  were  criss-crossed  by  the  railways  and  their 
mountain  haunts  re-echoed  to  the  scream  of  the  iron 
horse,  next  to  nothing  would  start  an  Indian  war:  it  took 
so  long  to  reach  the  scene  with  troops  in  sufficient  num- 
bers to  command  their  respect. 

And  at  this  moment  the  situation  was  grave  in  the  ex- 
treme. There  had  been  bad  blood  and  frequent  collision 
between  the  cattlemen,  herders,  "  hustlers," — especially 
hustlers, — and  the  hunting  parties  of  the  Sioux  and  the 
Northern  Cheyenne,  who  clung  to  the  Big  Horn  Range 
and  the  superb  surrounding  country  with  almost  passion- 
ate love  and  with  jealous  tenacity.  There  had  been  ag- 
gression on  both  sides,  then  bloodshed,  then  attempts  on 
part  of  frontier  sheriffs  to  arrest  accused  or  suspected  red 
men,  and  equally  determined  and  banded  effort  to  pre- 
vent arrest  of  accused  and  identified  whites.  By  due 
process  of  law,  as  administered  in  the  days  whereof  we 
write,  the  Indian  was  pretty  sure  to  get  the  worst  of 
every  difference,  and  therefore,  preferred,  not  unnatur- 
ally, his  own  time-honored  methods  of  settlement.  In 
accordance  therewith,  had  they  scalped  the  sheriff's  posse 


FIRST  SIGHT  OF  THE  FOE  77 

that  had  shot  two  of  their  young  braves  who  had  availed 
themselves  of  a  purposely  given  chance  to  escape,  and 
then  in  their  undiscriminating  zeal,  the  Sioux  had  opened 
fire  from  ambush  on  Plodder's  hunting  parties  and  the 
choppers  at  the  wood  camp,  who  defended  themselves  as 
best  they  could,  to  the  end  that  more  men,  red  and  white, 
were  killed.  The  Indians  rallied  in  force  and  closed  in 
about  Fort  Beecher,  driving  the  survivors  to  shelter 
within  its  guarded  lines,  and  then,  when  Plodder  needed 
every  man  of  his  force  to  keep  the  foe  at  respectful  dis- 
tance, so  that  his  bullets  could  not  reach  the  quarters 
occupied  by  the  women  and  children  at  the  post,  there 
reached  him  by  night  a  runner  from  the  stage  station  far 
over  to  the  southeast,  on  a  dry  fork  of  the  Powder,  say- 
ing that  the  north  and  south  bound  stages  had  taken 
refuge  there,  with  only  ten  men,  all  told,  to  stand  off  some 
fifty  warriors,  and  therefore  imploring  assistance.  Not 
daring  to  send  a  troop.  Plodder  called  for  volunteers  to 
bear  despatches  to  Major  Webb,  at  Frayne,  and  Pat 
Kennedy,  with  half  a  dozen  brave  lads,  had  promptly 
stepped  forward.  Kennedy  had  managed  to  slip  through 
the  encircling  Sioux  by  night,  and  to  reach  Fort  Frayne 
after  a  daring  and  almost  desperate  ride.  Then  Ray  was 
ordered  forth,  first  to  raise  the  siege  at  the  stage  sta- 
tion, then,  either  to  hold  that  important  relay  ranch  or  go 
on  to  reinforce  Plodder  as  his  judgment  and  the  situation 
might  dictate. 

He  knew  enough  of  the  stout  adobe  walls  of  the  corral 
on  the  Dry  Fork,  and  of  the  grit  of  the  few  defenders,  to 


78  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

feel  reasonably  sure  that,  with  ammunition,  provisions 
and  water  in  plenty,  they  could  easily  hold  out  a  week 
if  need  be  against  the  Sioux,  so  long  as  they  fought  on  the 
defensive  and  the  Indians  were  not  strongly  reinforced. 
He  reasoned  that  Stabber  and  his  people  were  probably 
gone  to  strengthen  the  attack,  and  that  having  an  hour's 
start  at  least,  and  riding  faster,  they  would  get  there 
somewhat  ahead  of  him.  But  one  of  his  own  old  ser- 
geants, a  veteran  of  twenty  years  in  the  cavalry,  was  now 
stationmaster  on  the  Dry  Fork,  and  all  the  Sioux  from 
the  Platte  to  Paradise  couldn't  stampede  old  Jim  Kelly. 
Many  a  forced  march  had  Ray  made  in  the  past,  and 
well  he  knew  that  the  surest  way  to  bring  his  horses 
into  action,  strong  and  sound  at  the  finish,  was  to  move 
"  slow  and  steady  "  at  the  start,  to  move  at  the  walk 
until  the  horses  were  calm  and  quiet,  was  his  rule.  Then 
on  this  bright  September  day  would  come  the  alternating 
trot  and  lope,  with  brief  halts  to  reset  saddles ;  then,  later 
still,  the  call  upon  his  willing  men  and  mounts  for  sus- 
tained effort,  and  by  sunset  he  and  they  could  count  on 
riding  in,  triumphant,  to  the  rescue,  even  though  Stabber 
himself  should  seek  to  bar  the  way. 

And  that  Stabber  meant  to  watch  the  road,  if  not  to 
block  it,  became  evident  before  the  head  of  column  began 
the  gradual  ascent  of  Moccasin  Ridge,  from  whose  sharp 
crest  the  little  band  could  take  their  last  look,  for  the 
time,  at  least,  at  the  distant  walls  of  Frayne.  Somewhere 
toward  seven-thirty  Corporal  Connors'  foremost  man, 
far  out  on  the  left  flank,  riding  suddenly  over  a  low 


FIRST  SIGHT  OF  THE  FOE  79 

divide,  caught  sight  of  a  bonneted  warrior  bending  flat 
over  his  excited  pony  and  lashing  that  nimble,  fleet- 
footed  creature  to  mad  gallop  in  the  effort  to  reach  the 
cover  of  the  projecting  point  of  bluff  across  the  shallow 
ravine  that  cut  in  toward  the  foothills.  Stone,  the 
trooper,  lifted  his  campaign  hat  on  high  once,  and  then 
lowered  his  arm  to  the  horizontal,  hat  in  hand,  pointing 
in  the  direction  the  darting  savage  was  seen,  and  thus, 
without  a  syllable  having  been  spoken  at  the  front,  word 
was  passed  in  to  Ray  that  one  Indian  had  been  sighted 
far  out  to  the  northwest. 

"  They  may  try  to  hold  us  among  the  breaks  of  the 
Mini  Pusa,"  said  he,  to  his  still  unreconciled  second  in 
command.  Field  had  been  civil,  respectful,  but  utterly 
uncommunicative  in  his  replies  to  the  captain's  repeated 
cordialities.  Any  attempt  to  even  remotely  refer  to  the 
causes  that  led  to  his  being  ordered  out  with  the  detach- 
ment had  been  met  with  chilling  silence.  Now,  how- 
ever, the  foe  had  been  seen  and  could  be  counted  on  to  re- 
sist if  his  rallied  force  much  exceeded  that  of  the  troop,  or 
to  annoy  it  by  long-range  fire  if  too  weak  to  risk  other 
encounter.  The  command  halted  one  moment  at  the  crest 
to  take  one  long,  lingering  look  at  the  now  far-distant 
post  beyond  the  Platte ;  then,  swinging  again  into  saddle, 
moved  briskly  down  into  the  long,  wide  hollow  between 
them  and  the  next  divide,  well  nigh  three  miles  across, 
and  as  they  reached  the  low  ground  and  traversed  its 
little  draining  gully,  a  muttered  exclamation  "  Look 
there ! "  from  the  lips  of  the  first  sergeant,  called  their 


8o  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

attention  again  to  the  far  left  front.  Stone,  the  trooper 
who  had  reported  the  first  Indian,  had  turned  his  horse 
over  to  the  second  man,  as  had  the  corporal  on  that 
flank,  and  together  they  were  crouching  up  along  the 
eastward  face  of  a  billowing  hillock,  while,  straight  to 
the  front  Sergeant  Scott,  obedient  to  a  signal  from  his 
left  hand  man,  was  speeding  diagonally  along  the  rise 
to  the  north,  for  all  three  advance  troopers  had  halted 
and  two  were  cautiously  dismounting.  Ray  watched  one 
moment,  with  kindling  eyes,  then  turned  to  his  young 
chief  of  platoons: 

"  Take   your  men,   Field,   and   be   ready   to   support. 
There's  something  behind  that  second  ridge ! " 


CHAPTER  VII 

BLOOD    WILL    TELL 

AS  Webb  had  predicted,  even  before  nine  o'clock, 
came  prompt,  spirited  response  from  Laramie, 
where  the  colonel  had  ordered  the  four  troops 
to  prepare  for  instant  march,  and  had  bidden  the  infantry 
to  be  ready  for  any  duty  the  general  might  order.  From 
Omaha, — department  headquarters, — almost  on  the  heels 
of  the  Laramie  wire  came  cheery  word  from  their  gallant 
chief :  "  Coming  to  join  you  noon  train  to-day.  Cheyenne 
1 :30  to-morrow.  Your  action  in  sending  Ray's  troop 
approved.  Hold  others  in  readiness  to  move  at  a  mo- 
ment's notice.  Wire  further  news  North  Platte,  Sidney 
or  Cheyenne  to  meet  me." 

So  the  note  of  preparation  was  joyous  throughout  the 
barracks  on  the  eastward  side  and  mournful  among  the 
married  quarters  elsewhere.  But  even  through  the 
blinding  tears  with  which  so  many  loving  women 
wrought,  packing  the  field  and  mess  kits  of  soldier  hus- 
bands whose  duties  kept  them  with  their  men  at  barracks 
or  stables,  there  were  some,  at  least,  who  were  quick  to 
see  that  matters  of  unusual  moment  called  certain  of  the 
major's  stanchest  henchmen  to  the  office,  and  that  grave 
and  earnest  consultation  was  being  held,  from  which  men 
came  with  sombre  faces  and  close-sealed  lips.     First  to 

8i 


82  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

note  these  indications  was  the  indomitable  helpmate  of 
old  Wilkins,  the  post  quartermaster.  She  had  no  dread 
on  his  account,  for  rheumatism  and  routine  duties,  as  the 
official  in  charge  of  Uncle  Sam's  huge  stack  of  stores 
and  supplies,  exempted  her  liege  from  duty  in  the  field; 
and,  even  while  lending  a  helping  hand  where  some  young 
wife  and  mother  seemed  dazed  and  broken  by  the  sudden 
call  to  arms,  she  kept  eyes  and  ears  alert  as  ever,  and 
was  speedily  confiding  to  first  one  household,  then  an- 
other, her  conviction  that  there  was  a  big  sensation 
bundled  up  in  the  bosom  of  the  post  commander  and  his 
cronies,  and  she  knew,  she  said,  it  was  something  about 
Field.  Everybody,  of  course,  was  aware  by  eight  o'clock 
that  Field  had  gone  with  Ray,  and  while  no  officer  pre- 
sumed to  ask  if  it  was  because  Ray,  or  Field,  had  applied 
for  the  detail,  no  woman  would  have  been  restrained 
therefrom  by  any  fear  of  Webb.  Well  he  realized  this 
fact  and,  dodging  the  first  that  sought  to  waylay  him  on 
the  walk,  he  had  later  intrenched  himself,  as  it  were,  in 
his  office,  where  Dade,  Blake  and  the  old  post  surgeon 
had  sat  with  him  in  solemn  conclave  while  Bill  Hay 
brought  his  clerk,  bar-keeper,  store-keeper,  Pete,  the  gen- 
eral utility  man,  and  even  "  Crapaud,"  the  halfbreed,  to 
swear  in  succession  they  had  no  idea  who  could  have 
tampered  with  either  the  safe  or  the  stables.  Closely 
had  they  been  cross-examined;  and,  going  away  in  turn, 
they  told  of  the  nature  of  the  cross-examination;  yet  to 
no  one  of  their  number  had  been  made  known  what  had 
occurred  to  cause  such  close  questioning.    Hay  had  been 


BLOOD  WILL  TELL  83 

forbidden  to  speak  of  it,  even  to  his  household.  The  offi- 
cers-of-the-day  were  sworn  to  secrecy.  Neither  Wilkins 
nor  the  acting  adjutant  was  closeted  with  the  council, 
and  neither,  therefore,  could  do  more  than  guess  at  the 
facts.  Yet  that  somebody  knew,  in  part  at  least,  the 
trend  of  suspicion,  was  at  once  apparent  to  Webb  and  his 
councilors  when,  about  nine  o'clock,  he  took  Blake  and 
Dade  to  see  those  significant  "  bar  shoe  "  hoof  prints. 
Every  one  of  them  had  disappeared. 

"  By  Jove !  "  said  Webb,  "  I  know  nozv  I  should  have 
set  a  sentry  with  orders  to  let  no  man  walk  or  ride  about 
here.  See!  He's  used  his  foot  to  smear  this — and  this 
— and  here  again  !  " 

There  in  a  dozen  places  were  signs  old  Indian  trailers 
read  as  they  would  read  an  open  book.  Places  where, 
pivoting  on  the  heel,  a  heavy  foot  had  crushed  right  and 
left  into  the  yielding  soil  of  the  roadway,  making  concen- 
tric, circular  grooves  and  ridges  of  sandy  earth,  where, 
earlier  in  the  morning  Dan's  and  Harney's  dainty  hoof 
prints  were  the  only  new  impressions.  For  nearly  fifty 
yards  had  this  obliterating  process  been  carried  on,  and 
in  a  dozen  spots,  until  the  road  dipped  over  the  rounding 
edge  and,  hard  and  firm  now,  went  winding  down  to  the 
flats.  Here  Webb,  with  Dade  and  Hay,  returned,  while 
Blake  meandered  on,  musing  over  what  he  had  been  told. 
"  It's  a  government  heel,  not  a  cpwboy's,"  had  Hay  said, 
hopefully,  of  the  print  of  that  pivoting  lump  of  leather. 

"  That  gives  no  clue  to  the  wearer,"  answered  Blake. 
"  Our  men  often  sell  their  new  boots,  or  give  their  old 


84  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

ones,  to  these  hangers-on  about  the  post.  So  far  as  I'm 
concerned,  the  care  with  which  the  print  has  been  erased 
is  proof  to  me  that  the  major  saw  just  what  he  said. 
Somebody  about  Hay's  place  was  mighty  anxious  to  cover 
his  tracks." 

But  a  dozen  "  somebodies  "  besides  the  stablemen  hung 
there  at  all  hours  of  the  day,  infesting  the  broad  veranda, 
the  barroom  and  stores,  striving  to  barter  the  skin  of 
coyote,  skunk  or  beaver,  or,  when  they  had  nothing  to 
sell,  pleading  for  an  unearned  drink.  Half  a  dozen  of 
these  furtive,  beetle-browed,  swarthy  sons  of  the  prairie 
lounged  there  now,  as  the  elder  officers  and  the  trader 
returned,  while  Blake  went  on  his  way,  exploring.  With 
downcast  eyes  he  followed  the  road  to  and  across  a  sandy 
watercourse  in  the  low  ground,  and  there,  in  two  or  three 
places  found  the  fresh  imprint  of  that  same  bar  shoe, 
just  as  described  by  Webb.  Then  with  long,  swift  strides 
he  came  stalking  up  the  hill  again,  passing  the  watchful 
eyes  about  the  corral  without  a  stop,  and  only  checking 
speed  as  he  neared  the  homestead  of  the  Hays,  where, 
once  again,  he  became  engrossed  in  studying  the  road 
and  the  hard  pathways  at  the  side.  Something  that  he 
saw,  or  fancied  that  he  saw,  perhaps  a  dozen  yards  from 
the  trader's  gate,  induced  him  to  stop,  scrutinize,  turn, 
and,  with  searching  eyes,  to  cross  diagonally  the  road  in 
the  direction  of  the  stables,  then  again  to  retrace  his 
steps  and  return  to  the  eastward  side.  Just  as  he  con- 
cluded his  search,  and  once  more  went  briskly  on  his  way, 
a  blithe  voice  hailed  him  from  an  upper  window,  and  the 


BLOOD  WILL  TELL  85 

radiant  face  and  gleaming  white  teeth  of  Nanette  Flower 
appeared  between  the  opening  blinds.  One  might  have 
said  he  expected  both  the  sight  and  question, 

''  Lost  anything,  Captain  Blake  ?  " 

"  Nothing  but — a  little  time,  Miss  Flower/^  was  the 
prompt  reply  as,  without  a  pause,  the  tall  captain,  raising 
his  forage-cap,  pushed  swiftly  on.  "  But  I've  found 
something,"  muttered  he  to  himself,  between  his  set  teeth, 
and  within  five  minutes  more  was  again  closeted  with  the 
post  commander. 

"You  saw  it?"  asked  Webb. 

"  Yes.  Three  or  four  places — down  in  the  arroyo. 
More  than  that —  Where's  Hay  ?  "  he  broke  off  sud- 
denly, for  voices  were  sounding  in  the  adjoining  room. 

"  Here,  with  Dade  and  the  doctor." 

"  Then — "  But  Blake  got  no  further.  Breathless  and 
eager,  little  Sandy  Ray  came  bounding  through  the  hall- 
way into  the  presence  of  the  officers.  He  could  hardly 
gasp  his  news : 

"  Major,  you  told  me  to  keep  watch  and  let  you  know. 
There's  a  courier  coming — hard!  Mother  saw  him — 
too,  through  the — spyglass.  She  says  they — see  him,  too 
at  Stabber's — and  she's  afraid " 

"  Right !  "  cried  Webb.  *'  Quick,  Blake ;  rush  out  half 
a  dozen  men  to  meet  him.  Those  devils  may  indeed  cut 
him  off.  Thank  you,  my  little  man,"  he  added,  bending 
down  and  patting  the  dark  curly  head,  as  Blake  went 
bounding  away.  "  Thank  you,  Sandy.  I'll  come  at  once 
to  the  bluff.    We'll  save  him.    Never  you  fear." 


86  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

In  less  than  no  time,  one  might  say,  all  Fort  Frayne 
seemed  hurrying  to  the  northward  bluff.  The  sight  of 
tall  Captain  Blake  bounding  like  a  greyhound  toward  his 
troop  barracks,  and  shouting  for  his  first  sergeant, — of 
Major  Webb  almost  running  across  the  parade  toward  the 
flagstaff, — of  Sandy  rushing  back  to  his  post  at  the  tele- 
scope,— of  the  adjutant  and  officer  of  the  day  tearing  away 
toward  the  stables,  where  many  of  the  men  were  now  at 
work,  were  signs  that  told  unerringly  of  something  stir- 
ring, probably  across  the  Platte.  As  luck  would  have  it, 
in  anticipation  of  orders  to  move,  the  troop  horses  had 
not  been  sent  out  to  graze,  and  were  still  in  the  sunshiny 
corrals,  and  long  before  the  news  was  fully  voiced 
through  officers'  row,  Blake  and  six  of  his  men  were  in 
saddle  and  darting  away  for  the  ford,  carbines  advanced 
the  instant  they  struck  the  opposite  bank. 

From  the  bluff  Webb  had  shouted  his  instructions. 
"  We  could  see  him  a  moment  ago,"  for  half  a  dozen  field 
glasses  were  already  brought  to  bear,  "  six  miles  out, — 
far  east  of  the  road.  Feel  well  out  to  your  left  to  head 
off  any  of  Stabber's  people.  Three  of  them  have  been 
seen  galloping  out  already.'^ 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir,"  came  the  answering  shout,  as  Blake 
whirled  and  tore  away  after  his  men.  There  had  been  a 
time  in  his  distant  past  when  the  navy,  not  the  army, 
was  his  ambition,  and  he  still  retained  some  of  the  ways 
of  the  sea.  Just  as  Webb  feared,  some  few  of  Stabber's 
young  warriors  had  been  left  behind,  and  their  eagle-eyed 
look-out  had  sighted  the  far-distant  courier  almost  as 


BLOOD  WILL  TELL  87 

soon  as  Sandy's  famous  telescope.  Now  they  were 
hastening  to  head  him  off. 

But  he  seemed  to  have  totally  vanished.  Level  as  ap- 
peared the  northward  prairie  from  the  commanding 
height  on  which  stood  the  throng  of  eager  watchers,  it 
was  in  reality  a  low,  rolling  surface  like  some  lazily 
heaving  sea  that  had  become  suddenly  solidified.  Long, 
broad,  shallow  dips  or  basins  lay  between  broad,  wide, 
far-extending,  yet  slight,  upheavals.  Through  the  shal- 
lows turned  and  twisted  dozens  of  dry  arroyos,  all  gradu- 
ally trending  toward  the  Platte, — the  drainage  system 
of  the  frontier.  Five  miles  out  began  the  ascent  to  the 
taller  divides  and  ridges  that  gradually,  and  with  many 
an  intervening  dip,  rose  to  the  watershed  between  the 
Platte  and  the  score  of  tiny  tributaries  that  united  to 
form  the  South  Cheyenne.  It  was  over  Moccasin,  or  Ten 
Mile,  Ridge,  as  it  was  often  called,  and  close  to  the  now 
abandoned  stage  road,  Ray's  daring  little  command  had 
disappeared  from  view  toward  eight  o'clock.  It  was  at 
least  two,  possibly  three,  miles  east  of  the  stage-road  that 
the  solitary  courier  had  first  been  sighted,  and  when 
later  seen  by  the  major  and  certain  others  of  the  swift 
gathering  spectators,  he  was  heading  for  Frayne,  though 
still  far  east  of  the  highroad. 

And  now  Mrs.  Ray,  on  the  north  piazza,  with  Webb  by 
her  side  and  Nannie  Blake,  Mrs.  Dade  and  Esther  in 
close  attendance,  was  briefly  telling  the  major  what  she 
had  seen  up  stream.  One  glance  through  Sandy's  glass 
had  told  her  the  little  fellow  had  not  watched  in  vain. 


88  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

Then,  with  the  ready  binocular,  she  had  turned  to  the 
Indian  encampment  up  the  Platte,  and  almost  instantly 
saw  signs  of  commotion, — squaws  and  children  running 
about,  ponies  running  away  and  Indian  boys  pursuing. 
Then,  one  after  another,  three  Indians, — warriors,  presu- 
mably,— had  lashed  away  northward  and  she  had  sent 
Sandy  on  the  run  to  tell  the  major,  even  while  keeping 
watch  on  this  threatening  three  until  they  shot  behind  a 
long,  low  ridge  that  stretched  southward  from  the  foot- 
hills. Beyond  doubt  they  were  off  in  hopes  of  bagging 
that  solitary  horseman,  speeding  with  warning  of  some 
kind  for  the  shelter  of  Fort  Frayne. 

By  this  time  there  must  have  been  nearly  two  hundred 
men,  women  and  children  lining  the  crest  of  the  bluff,  and 
speaking  in  low,  tense  voices  when  they  spoke  at  all,  and 
straining  their  eyes  for  the  next  sight  of  the  coming 
courier  or  the  swift  dash  of  the  intercepting  Sioux.  Well 
out  now,  and  riding  at  the  gallop,  Blake  and  his  half 
dozen,  widely  separating  so  as  to  cover  much  of  the 
ground,  were  still  in  view,  and  Dade  and  his  officers 
breathed  more  freely.  "  See  what  a  distance  those 
beggars  of  Stabber's  will  have  to  ride,"  said  the  veteran 
captain  to  the  little  group  about  him.  "  They  dare  not 
cross  that  ridge  short  of  three  miles  out.  It's  my  belief 
they'll  see  Blake  and  never  cross  at  all." 

Then  up  rose  a  sudden  shout.  "  There  he  is !  "  "  There 
he  comes !  "  "  See !  "  "  See !  "  and  fifty  hands  pointed 
eagerly  northeastward  where  a  little  black  dot  had  sud- 
denly popped  into  view  out  of  some  friendly,  winding 


BLOOD  WILL  TELL  89 

watercourse,  four  miles  still  away,  at  least  count,  and 
far  to  the  right  and  front  of  Blake's  easternmost  trooper. 
Every  glass  was  instantly  brought  to  bear  upon  the 
swiftly  coming  rider,  Sandy's  shrill  young  voice  ringing 
out  from  the  upper  window.  "  It  isn't  one  of  papa's  men. 
His  horse  is  a  gray !  "  Who  then  could  it  be  ?  and  what 
could  it  mean,  this  coming  of  a  strange  courier  from  a 
direction  so  far  to  the  east  of  the  travelled  road?  An- 
other moment  and  up  rose  another  shout.  "  Look ! " 
— "  There  they  are !  "  "  Sioux  for  certain !  "  And  from 
behind  a  little  knob  or  knoll  on  the  meridian  ridge  three 
other  black  dots  had  swept  into  view  and  were  shooting 
eastward  down  the  gradual  slope.  Another  moment 
and  they  were  swallowed  up  behind  still  another  low 
divide,  but  in  that  moment  they  had  seen  and  been  seen 
by  the  westernmost  of  Blake's  men,  and  now,  one  after 
another  as  the  signals  swept  from  the  left,  the  seven 
swerved.  Their  line  of  direction  had  been  west  of  north. 
Now,  riding  like  mad,  they  veered  to  the  northeast,  and 
a  grand  race  was  on  between  the  hidden  three  and  the 
would-be  rescuers ; — all  heading  for  that  part  of  the  low- 
rolling  prairie  where  the  lone  courier  might  next  be  ex- 
pected to  come  into  view; — friends  and  foes  alike,  un- 
conscious of  the  fact  that,  following  one  of  those  crooked 
arroyos  with  its  stifif  and  precipitous  banks,  he  had  been 
turned  from  his  true  course  full  three  quarters  of  a  mile, 
and  now,  with  a  longer  run,  but  a  clear  field  ahead,  was 
steering  straight  for  Frayne. 

Thus  the  interest  of  the  on-lookers  at  the  bluff  became 


90  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

divided.  Women  with  straining  eyes  gazed  at  the  lonely 
courier,  and  then  fearfully  scanned  the  ridge  line  between 
him  and  the  northward  sky;  praying  with  white  lips  for 
his  safety;  dreading  with  sinking  hearts  that  at  any  mo- 
ment those  savage  riders  should  come  darting  over  the 
divide  and  swooping  down  upon  their  helpless  prey.  Men, 
with  eyes  that  snapped  and  fists  that  clinched,  or  fingers 
that  seemed  twitching  with  mad  desire  to  clasp  pistol  butt 
or  sabre  hilt,  or  loud  barking  carbine,  ran  in  sheer  nervous 
frenzy  up  and  down  the  bluffs,  staring  only  at  Blake's  far- 
distant  riders,  swinging  their  hats  and  waving  them  on, 
praying  only  for  another  sight  of  the  Sioux  in  front  of  the 
envied  seven,  and  craving  with  all  their  soldier  hearts  to 
share  in  the  fight  almost  sure  to  follow.  On  the  Rays' 
piazza,  with  pallid  face  and  quivering  lips,  Esther  Dade 
clung  to  her  mother's  side.  Mrs.  Ray  had  encircled  with 
her  arm  the  slender  waist  of  Nannie  Blake,  whose  eyes 
never  for  an  instant  quit  their  gaze  after  the  swift-speed- 
ing dots  across  the  distant  prairie.  All  her  world  was  there 
in  one  tall,  vehement  horseman.  Other  troopers,  mounting 
at  the  stables,  had  spurred  away  under  Captain  Gregg, 
and  were  splashing  through  the  ford.  Other  denizens  of 
Fort  Frayne,  hearing  of  the  excitement,  came  hurrying 
to  the  bluff,  hangers-on  from  the  trader's  store  and  corral, 
the  shopman  himself,  even  the  bar-keeper  in  his  white 
jacket  and  apron;  two  or  three  panting,  low-muttering 
halfbreeds,  their  eyes  aflame,  their  teeth  gleaming  in  their 
excitement;  then  Hay  himself,  and  v/ith  him, — ^her  dark 
face  almost  livid,  her  hair  disordered  and  lips  rigid  and  al- 


■:/;Ss-v 


4^5 


^^' 


1 


The  Soldier  Leaped  from  his  Saddle 


BLOOD  WILL  TELL  9^ 

most  purple,  with  deep  lines  at  the  corners  of  her  mouth, — 
Nanette  Flower.  Who  that  saw  could  ever  forget  her  as 
she  forced  her  way  through  the  crowd  and  stood  at  the 
very  brink,  saying  never  a  word,  but  swiftly  focussing 
her  ready  glasses?  Hardly  had  she  reached  the  spot 
when  wild,  sudden,  exultant,  a  cheer  burst  fiercely  from 
the  lips  of  the  throng.  "Look!"  "Look!"  "  By  God, 
they've  got  'em !  "  yelled  man  after  man,  in  mad  excite- 
ment. Three  black  dots  had  suddenly  swept  into  view, 
well  to  the  right  of  Blake's  men,  and  came  whirling  down 
grade  straight  for  the  lone  courier  on  the  gray.  Theirs 
had  been  the  short  side,  ours  the  long  diagonal  of  the  race. 
Theirs  was  the  race,  perhaps,  but  not  the  prize,  for  he 
had  turned  up  far  from  the  expected  point.  Still  they 
had  him,  if  only, — if  only  those  .infernal  troopers  failed  to 
see  them.  There  was  their  hope !  Plainly  in  view  of  the 
high  bluff  at  the  fort,  they  were  yet  hidden  by  a  wave 
of  the  prairie  from  sight  of  the  interceptors,  still  heading 
for  the  ridge  the  warriors  had  just  left  behind.  Only 
for  a  second  or  two,  however.  A  yell  of  fierce  rejoicing 
went  up  from  the  crowd  on  the  bluff  as  the  easternmost  of 
Blake's  black  specks  was  seen  suddenly  to  check,  then  to 
launch  out  again,  no  longer  to  the  north,  but  straight  to 
his  right,  followed  almost  immediately  by  every  one  of 
the  seven.  Then,  too,  swerved  the  would-be  slayers,  in 
long,  graceful  circles,  away  from  the  wrath  to  come.  And, 
while  the  unconscious  courier  still  rode,  steadily  loping 
toward  the  desired  refuge,  away  for  the  breaks  and 
ravines  of  the  Sleeping  Bear  lashed  the  thwarted  Sioux, 


92  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

— away  in  hopeless  stern  chase  spurred  the  pursuers,  and 
while  women  sobbed  and  laughed  and  screamed,  and  men 
danced  and  shouted  and  swore  with  delight,  one  dark 
face,  livid,  fearsome,  turned  back  from  the  bluff,  and  Dr. 
Tracy,  hastening  to  the  side  of  his  enchantress,  caught,  in 
amaze,  these  words,  almost  hissed  between  set  and 
grinding  teeth. 
"  Seven  to  three — Shame ! " 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MORE  STRANGE  DISCOVERIES 

BUT  Frayne  was  far  from  done  with  excitement 
for  the  day.  For  a  while  all  eyes  seemed  centred 
on  the  chase,  now  scattered  miles  toward  the  east, 
and,  save  for  two  of  the  number  left  behind,  blown,  spent 
and  hopelessly  out  of  the  race,  soon  lost  to  view  among 
the  distant  swales  and  ravines.  Then  everyone  turned 
to  welcomfe  the  coming  harbinger,  to  congratulate  him  on 
his  escape,  to  demand  the  reason  for  his  daring  essay. 
Gregg  and  his  men  were  first  to  reach  him,  and  while 
one  of  them  was  seen  through  the  levelled  glasses  to  dis- 
mount and  give  the  courier  his  fresh  horse,  thereby  show- 
ing that  the  gray  was  well  nigh  exhausted,  the  whole 
party  turned  slowly  toward  the  post.  Then  one  of  their 
number  suddenly  darted  forth  from  the  group  and  came 
spurring  at  top  speed  straight  for  the  ford. 

*'  That  means  news  of  importance,"  said  Webb,  at  the 
instant.  "  And  Gregg  and  all  of  his  squad  are  coming  in, 
— not  following  Blake.  That  means  he  and  they  are  more 
needed  elsewhere.  Come  on,  Mr.  Ross.  We'll  go  down 
and  meet  that  fellow.  Orderly,  have  my  horse  sent  to  the 
ford."  So,  followed  by  three  or  four  of  the  younger  offi- 
cers,— the  married  men  being  restrained,  as  a  rule,  by  pro- 
testing voices,  close  at  hand, — the  commanding  officer 

93 


94  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

went  slipping  and  sliding  down  a  narrow,  winding  patK- 
way,  a  mere  goat  track,  many  of  the  soldiers  following  at 
respectful  distance,  while  all  the  rest  of  the  gathered 
throng  remained  at  the  crest,  eagerly,  almost  breathlessly 
awaiting  the  result.  They  saw  the  trooper  come  speeding 
in  across  the  flats  from  the  northeast ;  saw  as  he  reached 
the  "  bench  "  that  he  was  spurring  hard ;  heard,  even  at 
the  distance,  the  swift  batter  of  hoofs  upon  the  resounding 
sod;  could  almost  hear  the  fierce  panting  of  the  racing 
steed ;  saw  horse  and  rider  come  plunging  down  the  bank 
and  into  the  stream,  and  shoving  breast  deep  through 
the  foaming  waters;  then  issue,  dripping,  on  the  hither 
shore,  where,  turning  loose  his  horse,  the  soldier  leaped 
from  saddle  and  saluted  his  commander.  But  only  those 
about  the  major  heard  the  stirring  message : 

"  Captain  Gregg's  compliments,  sir.  It's  Rudge  from 
the  Dry  Fork.  Sergeant  Kelly  feared  that  Kennedy 
hadn't  got  through,  for  most  of  Lame  Wolf's  people 
pulled  away  from  the  Fork  yesterday  morning,  com- 
ing this  way,  and  the  sergeant  thought  it  was  to  unite 
with  Stabber  to  surround  any  small  command  that  might 
be  sent  ahead  from  here.  Rudge  was  ordered  to  make  a 
wide  sweep  to  the  east,  so  as  to  get  around  them,  and 
that's  what  took  him  so  long.  He  left  not  two  hours  after 
Kennedy." 

In  spite  of  his  years  of  frontier  service  and  training 
in  self  control,  Webb  felt,  and  others  saw,  that  his  face 
was  paling.  Ray,  with  only  fifty  men  at  his  back,  was 
now  out  of  sight — out  of  reach — of  the  post,  and  probably 


MORE  STRANGE  DISCOVERIES  95 

face  to  face  with,  if  not  already  surrounded  by,  the  com- 
bined forces  of  the  Sioux.  Not  a  second  did  he  hesitate. 
Among  the  swarm  that  had  followed  him  was  a  young 
trumpeter  of  "  K "  Troop,  reckless  of  the  fact  that  he 
should  be  at  barracks,  packing  his  kit.  As  luck  would 
have  it,  there  at  his  back  hung  the  brazen  clarion,  held 
by  its  yellow  braid  and  cord.  ''  Boots  and  Saddles,  Kerry, 
Quick ! "  ordered  the  major,  and  as  the  ringing  notes  re- 
echoed from  bluff  and  building  wall  and  came  laughing 
back  from  the  distant  crags  at  the  south,  the  little  throng 
at  the  bank  and  the  crowd  at  the  point  of  the  bluff  had 
scattered  like  startled  coveys, — the  men  full  run  for  the 
barracks  and  stables,  never  stopping  to  "  reason  why." 

Nearly  half  an  hour  later,  gray-haired  Captain  Dade 
stood  at  the  point  of  bluff  near  the  flagstaff,  Esther,  pale 
and  tearful,  by  his  side,  waving  adieu  and  Godspeed  to 
Webb,  who  had  halted  in  saddle  on  reaching  the  opposite 
bank  and  was  watching  his  little  column  through  the  ford, 
— three  stanch  troops,  each  about  sixty  strong,  reinforced 
by  half  a  dozen  of  Ray's  men  left  behind  in  the  forward 
rush  at  dawn,  but  scorning  disqualification  of  any  kind 
now  that  danger  menaced  their  beloved  captain  and  their 
comrades  of  the  sorrel  troop.  In  all  the  regiment  no  man 
was  loved  by  the  rank  and  file  as  was  Billy  Ray.  Brilliant 
soldiers,  gifted  officers,  sterling  men  were  many  of  his 
comrades,  but  ever  since  he  first  joined  the  — th  on  the 
heels  of  the  civil  war,  more  than  any  one  of  its  commis- 
sioned list,  Ray  had  been  identified  with  every  stirring 
scout  and  campaign,  fight  or  incident  in  the  regimental 


96  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

history.    Truscott,  Blake,  Hunter  and  Gregg  among  the 
junior  captains  had  all  had  their  tours  of  detached  duty — 
instructing  at  West  Point,  recruiting  in  the  big  Eastern 
cities,  serving  as  aide-de-camp  to  some  general   officer, 
but  of  Ray  it  could  be  said  he  had  hardly  been  east  of  the 
Missouri  from  the  day  he  joined  until  his  wedding  day, 
and  only  rarely  and  briefly  since  that  time.     More  than 
any  officer  had  he  been  prominent  in  scout  after  scout — 
Arizona,  Mexico,  Texas,  the  Indian  Territory,  Kansas, 
Colorado,  Nebraska,  Wyoming,  the  Dakotas,  Montana, 
even  parts  of  Idaho  and  Utah  he  knew  as  he  used  to 
know  the  roads  and  runways  of  the  blue  grass  region  of 
his  native  state.     From  the  British  line  to  the  Gulfs  of 
Mexico  and  California  he  had  studied  the  West.     The 
regiment  was  his  home,  his  intense  pride,  and  its  men  had 
been  his  comrades  and  brothers.     The  veterans  trusted 
and  swore  by,  the  younger  troopers  looked  up  to  and  well 
nigh  worshipped  him,  and  now,  as  the  story  that  the  Sioux 
had  probably  surrounded  the  sorrel  troop  went  like  wild 
fire  through  the  garrison,  even  the  sick  in  hospital  begged 
to  be  allowed  to  go,  and  one  poor  lad,  frantic  through 
fever  and  enforced  confinement,  broke  from  the  hold  of 
the  half-hearted  attendant ;  tore  over  to  **  K  "  Troop  bar- 
racks, demanding  his  *'  kit "  of  Sergeant  Schreiber,  and, 
finding  the  quarters  deserted,  the  men  all  gone  to  stables, 
dared  to  burst  into  that  magnate's  own  room  in  search  of 
his  arms  and  clothing,  and  thereby  roused  a  heavily  sleep- 
ing soldier,  who  damned  him  savagely  until,  through  wild 
raving,  he  gathered  that  some  grave  danger  menaced 


MORE  STRANGE  DISCOVERIES  97 

Captain  Ray.  Even  his  befuddled  senses  could  fathom 
that!  And  while  guards  and  nurses  bore  the  patient, 
shrieking  and  struggling,  back  to  hospital,  Kennedy 
soused  his  hot  head  in  the  cooling  waters  of  their  fron- 
tier lavatory  and  was  off  like  a  shot  to  the  stables. 

It  was  long  before  he  found  his  horse,  for  the  guard 
had  taken  Kilmaine  to  "  F  "  Troop's  stables,  and  Kennedy 
had  been  housed  by  "  K."  It  was  longer  still  before  he 
could  persuade  the  guard  that  he  "  had  a  right,"  as  he 
put  it,  to  ride  after  the  major.  Not  until  Captain  Dade 
had  been  consulted  would  they  let  him  go.  Not,  indeed, 
until  in  person  Kennedy  had  pleaded  his  cause  with  that 
cool-headed  commander.  Dade  noted  the  flushed  and 
swollen  face,  but  reasoned  that  nothing  would  more 
speedily  shake  the  whiskey  from  his  system  than  a  long 
gallop  in  that  glorious  air  and  sunshine.  "  Major  Webb 
is  following  the  trail  of  Captain  Ray,"  said  he.  "  You 
follow  the  major's.  You  can't  miss  him,  and  there  are 
no  more  Indians  now  to  interpose.  You  should  catch 
him  by  noon — then  give  him  this." 

"  This  "  was  a  copy  of  a  late  despatch  just  in  from 
Laramie,  saying  that  the  revolt  had  reached  the  Sioux  at 
the  agencies  and  reservations  on  the  White  Earth,  and 
would  demand  the  attention  of  every  man  at  the  post.  No 
reinforcement,  therefore,  could  be  looked  for  from  that 
quarter  until  the  general  came.  It  was  no  surprise  to 
Dade.  It  could  be  none  to  Webb,  for  old  Red  Cloud  had 
ever  been  an  enemy,  even  when  bribed  and  petted  and  fed 
and  coddled  in  his  village  on  the  Wakpa  Schicha.    His 


98  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

nephew  led  the  bolt  afield.  No  wonder  the  old  war 
chief  backed  him  with  abundant  food,  ammunition  and 
eager  warriors  sent  *'  from  home." 

But  it  was  after  eleven  when  Kennedy  drove  his  still 
wearied  horse  through  the  Platte  and,  far  to  the  north,  saw 
the  dun  dust  cloud  that  told  where  Webb's  little  column 
was  trotting  hard  to  the  support  of  the  sorrels.  His  head 
was  aching  and  he  missed  the  morning  draught  of  soldier 
coffee.  He  had  eaten  nothing  since  his  cold  lunch  at  the 
major's,  and  would  have  been  wise  had  he  gone  to  Mis- 
tress McGann  and  begged  a  cup  of  the  fragrant  Java  with 
which  she  had  stimulated  her  docile  master  ere  he  rode 
forth,  but  the  one  idea  uppermost  in  Kennedy's  muddled 
brain  was  that  the  sorrels  were  trapped  by  the  Sioux  and 
every  trooper  was  needed  to  save  them.  At  three  in  the 
morning  he  felt  equal  to  fighting  the  whole  Sioux  nation, 
with  all  its  dozen  tribes  and  dialects.  At  3  130  he  had 
been  whipped  to  a  stand  by  just  one  of  their  number,  and, 
"  Mother  av  Moses,"  one  that  spoke  English  as  well,  or  as 
ill,  as  any  man  in  the  — th. 

Sore  in  soul  and  body  was  Kennedy,  and  sore  and 
stiff  was  his  gallant  bay,  Kilmaine,  when  these  comrades 
of  over  three  years'  service  shook  the  spray  of  the  Platte 
from  their  legs  and  started  doggedly  northward  on  the 
trail.  Northward  they  went  for  full  three  miles,  Kil- 
maine sulky  and  protesting.  The  dust  cloud  was  only 
partially  visible  now,  hidden  by  the  ridge  a  few  miles 
ahead,  when,  over  that  very  ridge,  probably  four  miles 
away  to  the  right  front,  Kennedy  saw  coming  at  speed  a 


MORE  STRANGE  DISCOVERIES  99 

single  rider,  and  reined  to  the  northeast  to  meet  him. 
Blake  and  his  men  had  gone  far  in  that  direction.  Two  of 
their  number,  with  horses  too  slow  for  a  chase  after 
nimble  ponies,  had,  as  we  have  seen,  drifted  back,  and 
joined,  unprepared  though  they  were  for  the  field,  the 
rear  of  Webb's  column.  But  now  came  another,  not  aim- 
ing for  Webb,  but  heading  for  Frayne.  It  meant  news 
from  the  chase  that  might  be  important.  It  would  take 
him  but  little  from  the  direct  line  to  the  north,  why  not 
meet  him  and  hear?  Kennedy  reined  to  the  right,  riding 
slowly  now  and  seeking  the  higher  level  from  which  he 
could  command  the  better  view. 

At  last  they  neared  each  other,  the  little  Irish  veteran, 
sore-headed  and  in  evil  mood,  and  a  big,  wild-eyed,  scare- 
faced  trooper  new  to  the  frontier,  spurring  homeward 
with  panic  in  every  feature,  but  rejoicing  at  sight  of  a 
comrade  soldier. 

"  Git  back ;  git  back ! "  he  began  to  shout,  as  soon  as 
he  got  within  hailing  distance.  "  There's  a  million  In- 
dians just  over  the  ridge.    They've  got  the  captain " 

"  What  captain  ?  "  yelled  Kennedy,  all  ablaze  at  the  in- 
stant.   "  Spake  up,  ye  shiverin'  loon !  " 

"  Blake !    He  got  way  ahead  of  us *' 

''  Then  it's  to  him  you  should  be  runnin',  not  home, 

ye  cur !  Turn  about  now !  Turn  about  or  I'll "  And  in 

a  fury  Pat  had  seized  the  other's  rein,  and,  spurring  sav- 
agely at  Kilmaine, — ^both  horses  instantly  waking,  as 
though  responsive  to  the  wrath  and  fervor  of  their  little 
master, — he  fairly  whirled  the  big  trooper  around  and, 


100  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

despite  fearsome  protests,  bore  him  onward  toward  the 
ridge,  swift  questioning  as  they  rode.  How  came  they  to 
send  a  raw  rookie  on  such  a  quest?  Why,  the  rookie 
gasped  in  explanation  that  he  was  on  stable  guard,  and 
the  captain  took  the  first  six  men  in  sight.  How  hap- 
pened it  that  the  captain  got  so  far  ahead  of  him  ?  There 
was  no  keepin'  up  with  the  captain.  He  was  on  his  big, 
raw-boned  race  horse,  chasin'  three  Indians  that  was  firin' 
and  had  hit  Meisner,  but  there  was  still  three  of  the  troop 
to  follow  him,  and  the  captain  ordered  "  come  ahead," 
until  all  of  a  sudden,  as  they  filed  round  a  little  knoll,  the 
three  Indians  they'd  been  chasin'  turned  about  and  let 
'em  havie  it,  and  down  went  another  horse,  and  Corporal 
Feeney  was  killed  sure,  and  he,  the  poor  young  rookie, 
saw  Indians  in  every  direction,  "  comin'  straight  at  'em," 
and  what  else  could  he  do  but  gallop  for  home — and  help  ? 
All  this,  told  with  much  gasping  on  his  part,  and  heard 
with  much  blasphemy  by  Kennedy,  brought  the  strangely 
assorted  pair  at  swift  gallop  over  the  springy  turf  back 
along  the  line  of  that  panicky,  yet  most  natural  retreat. 
Twice  would  the  big  fellow  have  broken  away  and  again 
spurred  for  home,  but  the  little  game  cock  held  him  sav- 
agely to  his  work  and  so,  together,  at  last  they  neared  the 
curtaining  ridge.  "  Now,  damn  you !  "  howled  Kennedy, 
"  whip  out  your  carbine  and  play  you're  a  man  till  we  see 
what's  in  front !  an'  if  ye  play  false,  the  first  shot  from  this 
barker,"  with  a  slap  at  the  butt  of  his  Springfield,  "  goes 
through  your  heart." 

And  this  was  what  they  saw  as,  together,  they  rounded 


MORE  STRANGE  DISCOVERIES         loi 

the  hillock  and  came  in  view  of  the  low  ground  be- 
yond. 

Half  way  down  the  long,  gradual  slope,  in  a  shallow 
little  dip,  possibly  an  old  buffalo  wallow,  two  or  three 
horses  were  sprawled,  and  a  tiny  tongue  of  flame  and  blue 
smoke  spitting  from  over  the  broad,  brown  backs  told  that 
someone,  at  least,  was  on  the  alert  and  defensive.  Out 
on  the  prairie,  three  hundred  yards  beyond,  a  spotted 
Indian  pony,  heels  up,  was  rolling  on  the  turf,  evidently 
sorely  wounded.  Behind  this  rolling  parapet  crouched  a 
feathered  warrior,  and  farther  still  away,  sweeping  and 
circling  on  their  mettlesome  steeds,  three  more  savage 
braves  were  darting  at  speed.  Already  they  had  sighted 
the  coming  reinforcements,  and  while  two  seemed  franti- 
cally signalling  toward  the  northwest,  the  third  whirled 
his  horse  and  sped  madly  away  in  that  direction. 

"  Millions,  be  damned !  "  yelled  Kennedy.  "  There's 
only  three.  Come  on,  ye  scut ! "  And  down  they  went, 
full  tilt  at  the  Sioux,  yet  heading  to  cover  and  reach  the 
beleaguered  party  in  the  hollow.  Someone  of  the  besieged 
waved  a  hat  on  high.  Two  more  carbines  barked  their  de- 
fiance at  the  feathered  foe,  and  then  came  a  pretty  ex- 
hibit of  savage  daring  and  devotion.  Disdainful  of  the 
coming  troopers  and  of  the  swift  fire  now  blazing  at  them 
from  the  pit,  the  two  mounted  warriors  lashed  their  ponies 
to  mad  gallop  and  bore  down  straight  for  their  imperilled 
brother,  crouching  behind  the  stricken  "  pinto."  Never 
swerving,  never  halting,  hardly  checking  speed,  but  bend- 
ing low  over  and  behind  their  chargers'  necks,  the  two 


102         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

young  braves  swept  onward  and  with  wild  whoQp  of  tri- 
umph, challenge  and  hatred,  gathered  up  and  slung  behind 
the  rider  of  the  heavier  pony  the  agile  and  bedizened  form 
on  the  turf;  then  circled  away,  defiant,  taunting,  gleeful, 
yes  and  even  more : — With  raging  eyes,  Kennedy  sprang 
from  saddle  and,  kneeling,  drove  shot  after  shot  at  the 
scurrying  pair.  Two  of  the  three  troopers  at  the  hollow 
followed  suit.  Even  the  big,  blubbering  lad  so  lately 
crazed  with  fear  unslung  his  weapon  and  fired  thrice 
into  empty  space,  and  a  shout  of  wrath  and  renewed  chal- 
lenge to  "  come  back  and  fight  it  out "  rang  out  after  the 
Sioux,  for  to  the  amaze  of  the  lately  besieged,  to  the  im- 
potent fury  of  the  Irishman,  in  unmistakable,  yet  mostly 
unquotable,  English,  the  crippled  warrior  was  yelling 
mingled  threat  and  imprecation. 

*'  Who  was  it,  Kennedy  ? — and  where  did  you  ever  see 
him  before  ?  "  a  moment  later,  demanded  Captain  Blake, 
almost  before  he  could  grasp  the  Irishman's  hands  and 
shower  his  thanks,  and  even  while  stanching  the  flow  of 
blood  from  a  furrow  along  his  sun-burnt  cheek.  "  What's 
that  he  said  about  eating  your  heart  ?  " 

And  Kennedy,  his  head  cleared  now  through  the  rap- 
ture of  battle,  minded  him  of  his  promise  to  Field,  and 
lied  like  a  hero.  "  Sure,  how  should  I  know  him,  sorr? 
They're  all  of  the  same  spit." 

"  But,  he  called  you  by  name.  I  heard  him  plainly. 
So  did  Meisner,  here,"  protested  Blake.  "  Hello,  what 
have  you  there,  corporal  ?  "  he  added,  as  young  Feeney, 
the  "  surely  killed,"  came  running  back,  bearing  in  his 


MORE  STRANCjtIj:  discoveries         103 

hand  a  gaily  ornamented  pouch  of  buckskin,  with  long^i 
fringes  and  heavy  crusting  of  brilliant  beads. 

"  Picked  it  up  by  that  pony  yonder,  sir,"  answered  the 
corporal,  with  a  salute.  "  Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  will  the 
captain  take  my  horse?  His  is  hit  too  bad  to  carry 
him." 

Two,  indeed,  of  Blake's  horses  were  crippled,  and  it 
was  high  time  to  be  going.  Mechanically  he  took  the 
{iouch  and  tied  it  to  his  waist  belt.  ''  Thank  God  no  man 
is  hurt !  "  he  said.  "  But — now  back  to  Frayne !  Watch 
those  ridges  and  be  ready  if  a  feather  shows,  and  spread 
out  a  little — Don't  ride  in  a  bunch." 

But  there  was  bigger  game  miles  to  the  west,  demand- 
ing all  the  attention  of  the  gathered  Sioux.  There  were 
none  to  spare  to  send  so  far,  and  though  three  warriors, 
— one  of  them  raging  and  clamoring  for  further  attempt 
despite  his  wounds, — hovered  about  the  retiring  party, 
Blake  and  his  fellows  within  another  hour  were  in  sight 
of  the  sheltering  walls  of  Frayne ;  and,  after  a  last,  long- 
range  swapping  of  shots,  with  Blake  and  Meisner  footing 
it  most  of  the  way,  led  their  crippled  mounts  in  safety  to- 
ward that  Rubicon  of  the  West — the  swift  flowing  Platte. 
They  were  still  three  miles  out  when  Blake  found  leisure 
to  examine  the  contents  of  that  beaded  pouch,  and  the 
first  thing  drawn  from  its  depths  was  about  the  last  a 
Christian  would  think  to  find  in  the  wallet  of  a  Sioux — 
a  dainty  little  billet,  scented  with  wood  violet, — an 
envelope  of  delicate  texture,  containing  a  missive  on  paper 
to  match,  and  the  envelope  was  addressed  in  a  strange, 


104  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

'  angular,  characteristic  hand  that  Blake  recognized  at 
once,  to  a  man  of  whom,  by  that  name  at  least,  he  had 
never  heard  before: 

"  Mr.  Ralph  Moreau, 

"EnViller 


CHAPTER  IX 

BAD  NEWS  FROM  THE  FRONT 

IT  might  well  be  imagined  that  a  man  returning  from 
such  a  morning's  work  as  had  been  Blake's  could 
be  excused  from  duty  the  rest  of  the  day.  He 
and  his  little  party  had  had  a  spirited  running  fight  of 
several  hours  with  an  evasive  and  most  exasperating  trio 
of  warriors,  better  mounted  for  swift  work  than  were  the 
troopers.  He  had  managed  eventually  to  bring  down 
one  of  the  Indians  who  lingered  a  little  too  long  within 
short  range  of  the  carbines,  but  it  was  the  pony,  not  the 
rider,  that  they  killed.  Meanwhile  other  Indians  had  ap- 
peared on  distant  divides,  and  one  feathered  brave  had 
galloped  down  to  meet  his  comrades,  and  fire  a  few  shots 
at  the  pursuing  pale  faces.  But  at  no  time,  until  near 
their  supports  and  far  from  the  fort,  had  the  Sioux 
halted  for  a  hand  to  hand  fight,  and  Blake's  long  ex- 
perience on  the  frontier  had  stood  him  in  good  stead. 
He  saw  they  were  playing  for  one  of  two  results ; — either 
to  lure  him  and  his  fellows  in  the  heat  of  pursuit  far 
round  to  the  northwest,  where  were  the  united  hundreds 
of  Lame  Wolf  and  Stabber  stalking  that  bigger  game, 
or  else  to  tempt  Blake  himself  so  far  ahead  of  his  fellows 
as  to  enable  them  to  suddenly  whirl  about,  cut  him  off, 
and,  three  on  one,  finish  him  then  and  there;  then  speed 

105 


io6         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

away  in  frenzied  delight,  possessors  of  a  long-coveted 
scalp. 

They  well  knew  Blake, — almost  as  well  as  they  did 
Ray.  Many  a  year  he  had  fought  them  through  the 
summer  and  fed  them  through  the  winter.  They,  their 
squaws  and  pappooses,  had  fattened  on  his  bounty  when 
the  snows  were  deep  and  deer  were  gone,  and  their  abun- 
dant rations  had  been  feasted  or  gambled  away.  Many  of 
their  number  liked  him  well,  but  now  they  were  at  the 
war  game  again,  and,  business  is  business  with  the  aborig- 
ines. Blake  was  a  "  big  chief,"  and  he  who  could  wear 
at  his  belt  the  scalp  of  so  prominent  a  pale  face  leader 
would  be  envied  among  his  people.  "  Long  Legs,"  as 
tljey  called  him,  however,  was  no  fool.  Brave  and  zeal- 
ous as  he  was,  Blake  was  not  rash.  He  well  knew  that 
unless  he  and  his  few  men  kept  together  they  would  simply 
play  into  the  hands  of  the  Indians.  It  would  have  been 
easy  for  him,  with  his  big  racer,  to  outstrip  his  little  party 
and  close  with  the  Sioux.  Only  one  of  the  troopers  had 
a  horse  that  could  keep  pace  with  Pyramus,  but  nothing 
he  could  gain  by  such  a  proceeding  would  warrant  the 
desperate  risk.  Matchless  as  we  have  reason  to  believe 
our  men,  we  cannot  so  believe  our  mounts.  Unmatched 
would  better  describe  them.  Meisner's  horse  might  have 
run  with  the  captain's,  until  crippled  by  the  bullets  of  the 
Sioux,  but  Bent's  and  Flannigan's  were  heavy  and  slow, 
and  so  it  resulted  that  the  pursuit,  though  determined, 
was  not  so  dangerous  to  the  enemy  but  that  they  were  able 
to  keenly  enjoy  it,  until  the  swift  coming  of  Kennedy  and 


BAD  NEWS  FROM  THE  FRONT         107 

his  captive  comrade  turned  the  odds  against  them,  for 
then  two  of  Blake's  horses  had  given  out  through  wounds 
and  weakness,  and  they  had  the  pursuers  indeed  "  in  a 
hole." 

That  relief  came  none  too  soon.  Blake  and  his  fellows 
had  been  brought  to  a  stand;  but  now  the  Sioux  sped 
away  out  of  range ;  the  crippled  party  limped  slowly  back 
to  the  shelter  of  Frayne,  reaching  the  post  long  hours 
after  their  spirited  start,  only  to  find  the  women  and  chil- 
dren, at  least,  in  an  agony  of  dread  and  excitement,  and 
even  Dade  and  his  devoted  men  looking  grave  and  dis- 
turbed. Unless  all  indications  failed,  Ray  and  his  people 
must  have  been  having  the  fight  of  their  lives.  Two 
couriers  had  galloped  back  from  Moccasin  Ridge  to  say 
that  Major  Webb's  scouts  could  faintly  hear  the  sound 
of  rapid  firing  far  ahead,  and  that,  through  the  glass,  at 
least  a  dozen  dead  horses  or  ponies  could  be  seen  scattered 
over  the  long  slope  to  the  Elk  Tooth  range,  miles  further 
on.  Webb  had  pushed  forward  to  Ray's  support,  and 
Blake,  calling  for  fresh  horses  for  himself  and  two  of  his 
men,  bade  the  latter  get  food  and  field  kits  and  be  ready 
to  follow  him.  Then  he  hastened  to  join  his  devoted 
young  wife,  waiting  with  Mrs.  Ray  upon  the  piazza. 
Dade,  who  had  met  him  at  the  ford,  had  still  much  to 
tell  and  even  more  to  hear ;  but  at  sight  of  those  two  pale, 
anxious  faces,  lifted  his  cap  and  called  out  cheerily,  "  I 
hand  him  over  to  you,  Mrs.  Blake,  and  will  see  him  later," 
then  turned  and  went  to  his  own  doorway,  and  took 
Esther's  slender  form  in  his  strong  arms  and  kissed  the 


io8  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

white  brow  and  strove  to  think  of  something  reassuring 
to  say,  and  never  thought  to  ask  Blake  what  he  had  in 
that  fine  Indian  tobacco  pouch  swinging  there  at  his  belt, 
for  which  neglect  the  tall  captain  was  more  than  grateful. 
It  was  a  woman's  letter,  as  we  know,  and  that,  he  argued, 
should  be  dealt  with  only  in  a  woman's  way. 

Sorely  puzzled  as  Blake  had  been  by  the  discovery,  he 
had  been  able  on  the  long  homeward  march, — walking 
until  in  sight  of  Frayne  and  safety,  then  galloping  ahead 
on  the  corporal's  horse, — to  think  it  out,  as  he  said,  in 
several  ways.  Miss  Flower  had  frequently  ridden  up  the 
valley  and  visited  the  Indian  village  across  the  Platte. 
Miss  Flower  might  easily  have  dropped  that  note,  and 
some  squaw,  picking  it  up,  had  surrendered  it  to  the  first 
red  man  who  demanded  it,  such  being  the  domestic  dis- 
cipline of  the  savage.  The  Indian  kept  it,  as  he  would 
any  other  treasure  trove  for  which  he  had  no  use,  in  hopes 
of  reward  for  its  return,  said  Blake.  It  was  queer,  of 
course,  that  the  Indian  in  whose  pouch  it  was  found 
should  have  been  so  fluent  a  speaker  of  English,  yet  many 
a  Sioux  knew  enough  of  our  tongue  to  swear  volubly  and 
talk  ten  words  of  vengeance  to  come.  There  were  several 
wa3^s,  as  Blake  reasoned,  by  which  that  letter  might  have 
got  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  But  at  any  rate,  with 
everything  said,  it  was  a  woman's  letter.  He  had  no 
right  to  read  it.  He  would  first  confide  in  his  wife,  and, 
if  she  said  so,  in  Mrs.  Ray.  Then  what  they  decided 
should  decide  him. 

But  now  came  a  new  problem.     Despite  the  long  morn- 


BAD  NEWS  FROM  THE  FRONT  109 

ing  of  peril  and  chase  and  excitement,  there  was  still 
much  more  ahead.  His  men  were  in  saddle;  his  troop 
was  afield ;  the  foe  was  in  force  on  the  road  to  the  north ; 
the  battle,  mayhap,  was  on  at  the  very  moment,  and  Frayne 
and  home  was  no  place  for  him  when  duty  called  at  the 
distant  front.  Only,  there  was  Nan,  silent,  tremulous, 
to  be  sure,  and  with  such  a  world  of  piteous  dread  and 
pleading  in  her  beautiful  eyes.  It  was  hard  to  have  to 
tell  her  he  must  go  again  and  at  once,  hard  to  have  to  bid 
her  help  him  in  his  hurried  preparations,  when  she  longed 
to  throw  herself  in  his  arms  and  be  comforted.  He  tried 
to  smile  as  he  entered  the  gate,  and  thereby  cracked  the 
brittle,  sun-dried  court  plaster  with  which  a  sergeant  had 
patched  his  cheek  at  the  stables.  The  would-be  glad- 
some grin  started  the  blood  again,  and  it  trickled  down 
and  splashed  on  his  breast  where  poor  Nan  longed  to 
pillow  her  bonny  head,  and  the  sight  of  it,  despite  her 
years  of  frontier  training,  made  her  sick  and  faint.  He 
caught  her  in  his  left  arm,  laughing  gayly,  and  drew  her 
to  the  other  side.  "  Got  the  mate  to  that  scoop  of  Billy's," 
he  cried,  holding  forth  his  other  hand  to  Mrs.  Ray. 
"  'Tisn't  so  deep,  perhaps,  but  'twill  serve,  'twill  do,  and 
I'll  crow  over  him  to-night.  Come  in  with  us,  Mrs.  Ray. 
I — I've  something  to  show  you." 

"  One  minute,"  said  that  wise  young  matron.  "  Let 
me  tell  the  children  where  to  find  me.  Sandy  and  Billy 
are  on  post  at  the  telescope.  They  wouldn't  leave  it  even 
for  luncheon."  With  that  she  vanished,  and  husband 
and  wife  were  alone. 


no         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

"  You  must  go,  Gerald,"  she  sobbed — ''  I  know  it,  but 
— isn't  there  some  way  ? — Won't  Captain  Dade  send  more 
men  with  you  ?  " 

"  If  he  did,  Nan,  they'd  only  hamper  me  with  horses 
that  drag  behind.  Be  brave,  little  woman.  Webb  has 
swept  the  way  clear  by  this  time.  Come,  I  need  your 
help." 

And  the  door  closed  on  the  soldier  and  his  young  wife. 
They  never  saw  that  Nanette  Flower,  in  saddle,  was  rid- 
ing swiftly  up  the  row,  and,  for  the  first  time  since  her 
coming  to  Frayne,  without  an  escort.  Dade  reappeared 
upon  his  front  gallery  in  time  to  greet  her,  but  Esther, 
after  one  quick  glance,  had  darted  again  within.  Dade 
saw  unerringly  that  Miss  Flower  was  in  no  placid  frame 
of  mind.  Her  cheeks  were  pale ;  her  mouth  had  that  livid 
look  that  robbed  her  face  of  all  beauty ;  but  her  eyes  were 
full  and  flashing  with  excitement.     , 

"  What  news,  captain  ?  "  she  hailed,  and  the  joyous, 
silvery  ring  had  gone  from  her  voice.  **  They  tell  me 
Captain  Blake  is  back — two  horses  crippled,  two  men  hit, 
including  himself." 

"  His  own  share  is-  a  scratch  he  wouldn't  think  of  men- 
tioning outside  the  family.  Miss  Flower,"  answered  Dade, 
with  grim  civility.  He  had  his  reasons  for  disapproving 
of  the  young  woman ;  yet  they  were  not  such  as  warranted 
him  in  showing  her  the  least  discourtesy.  He  walked  to 
his  gate  and  met  her  at  the  curb  beyond  and  stood  strok- 
ing the  arching  neck  of  her  spirited  horse — "  Harney  " 
again. 


BAD  NEWS  FROM  THE  FRONT         m 

"  Did  they — were  there  any  Indians — killed  ?  "  she 
asked,  with  anxiety  scarcely  veiled. 

"  Oh,  they  downed  one  of  them,"  answered  the  cap- 
tain, eying  her  closely  the  while  and  speaking  with  much 
precision,  "  a  fellow  who  cursed  them  freely  in  fluent 
English."  Yes,  she  was  surely  turning  paler. — *'  A  bold, 
bad  customer,  from  all  accounts.  Blake  thought  he  must 
be  of  Lame  Wolf's  fellows,  because  he — seemed  to  know 
Kennedy  so  well  and  to  hate  him.  Kennedy  has  only 
just  come  down  from  Fort  Beecher,  where  Wolf's  people 
have  been  at  mischief." 

"  But  what  became  of  him  ?  What  did  they  do  with 
him  ?  "  interrupted  the  girl,  her  lips  quivering  in  spite  of 
herself. 

"  Oh, — left  him,  I  suppose,"  answered  the  veteran,  with 
deliberate  design,  "  What  else  could  they  do  ?  There 
was  no  time  for  ceremony.  His  fellow  savages,  you  know, 
can  attend  to  that." 

For  a  moment  she  sat  there  rigid,  her  black  eyes  staring 
straight  into  the  imperturbable  face  of  the  old  soldier. 
No  one  had  ever  accused  Dade  of  cruelty  or  unkindness 
to  man  or  woman,  especially  to  woman ;  yet  here  he  stood 
before  this  suffering  girl  and,  with  obvious  intent,  pic- 
tured to  her  mind's  eye  a  warrior  stricken  and  left  un- 
buried  or  uncared  for  on  the  field.  Whatever  his  reasons, 
he  stabbed  and  meant  to  stab,  and  for  just  one  moment 
she  seemed  almost  to  droop  and  reel  in  saddle ;  then,  with 
splendid  rally,  straightened  up  again,  her  eyes  flashing, 
her  lip  curling  in  scorn,  and  with  one  brief,  emphatic 


112         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

phrase  ended  the  interview  and,  whirling  Harney  about, 
smote  him  sharply  with  her  whip,  and  darted  away: — 
"  True  !  "  said  she.  "  Civilized  warfare !  " 
"  If  that  girl  isn't  more  than  half  savage,"  said  Dade, 
to  himself,  as  Harney  tore  away  out  of  the  garrison  on  the 
road  to  the  ford,  "  I  am  more  than  half  Sioux.  Oh,  for 
news  of  Ray !  " 

Ray  indeed!  It  was  now  nearly  four  o'clock.  Tele- 
grams had  been  coming  and  going  over  the  Laramie  wire. 
"  The  Chief,"  as  they  called  their  general,  with  only  one 
of  his  staff  in  attendance,  had  reached  Cheyenne  on  time, 
and,  quitting  the  train,  declining  dinner  at  the  hotel  and 
having  but  a  word  or  two  with  the  "  Platform  Club," — 
the  little  bevy  of  officers  from  Fort  Russell  whose  custom 
it  was  to  see  the  westbound  train  through  almost  every 
day — had  started  straightway  for  Laramie  behind  the 
swiftest  team  owned  by  the  quartermaster's  department, 
while  another,  in  relay,  awaited  him  at  the  Chugv/ater 
nearly  fifty  miles  out.  Driving  steadily  through  the  starlit 
night,  he  should  reach  the  old  frontier  fort  by  dawn  at  the 
latest,  and  what  news  would  Dade  have  to  send  him  there  ? 
Not  a  word  had  he  uttered  to  either  the  officers  who  re- 
spectfully greeted,  or  reporters  who  eagerly  importuned, 
him  as  to  the  situation  at  Frayne ;  but  men  who  had  served 
with  him  in  Arizona  and  on  the  Yellowstone  many  a  year 
before,  knew  well  that  grave  tidings  had  reached  him. 
Dade  had,  in  fact,  supplemented  Webb's  parting  despatch 
with  another  saying  that  Blake's  little  party,  returning, 
had  just  been  sighted  through  the  telescope  nine  miles  out, 


BAD  NEWS  FROM  THE  FRONT         113 

with  two  men  afoot.  But  not  until  the  general  reached 
Lodge  Pole  Creek  did  the  message  meet  him,  saying  that 
Webb's  advance  guard  could  hear  the  distant  attack  on 
Ray.  Not  until  he  reached  the  Chugwater  in  the  early 
night  could  he  hope  to  hear  the  result. 

It  was  nightfall  when  the  awful  suspense  of  the  garri- 
son at  Frayne  was  even  measurably  lifted.  Blake,  with 
three  troopers  at  his  back,  had  then  been  gone  an  hour, 
and  was  lost  in  the  gloaming  before  Dr.  Tracy's  orderly, 
with  a  face  that  plainly  told  the  nervous  tension  of  his  two 
hours'  ride,  left  his  reeking,  heaving  horse  at  the  stables 
and  climbed  the  steep  path  to  the  flag-staif,  the  shortest 
way  to  the  quarters  of  the  commanding  officer.  Despite 
the  gathering  darkness,  he  had  been  seen  by  a  dozen  eager 
watchers  and  was  deluged  with  questions  by  trembling, 
tearful  women  and  by  grave,  anxious  men. 

**  There's  been  a  fight ;  that's  all  I  know,"  he  said.  "  I 
was  with  the  pack  mules  and  the  ambulances  and  didn't 
get  to  see  it.  All  I  saw  was  dead  ponies  way  out  beyond 
Ten  Mile  Ridge.  Where's  the  major? — I  mean  the  cap- 
tain ?  "  No !  the  orderly  didn't  know  who  was  killed  or 
wounded,  or  that  anybody  was  killed  and  wounded.  All 
he  knew  was  that  Dr.  Tracy  came  galloping  back  and 
ordered  the  ambulances  to  scoot  for  the  front  and  him  to 
spur  every  bit  of  the  way  back  to  Frayne  with  the  note  for 
Captain  Dade. 

All  this  was  told  as  he  eagerly  pushed  his  way  along 
the  board  walk;  soldiers'  wives  hanging  on  his  words 
and  almost  on  him;  officers'  wives  and  daughters  calling 


114         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

from  the  galleries  or  running  to  the  gates,  and  Dade  heard 
the  hubbub  almost  as  quickly  as  did  Esther,  who  hurried 
to  the  door.  By  the  light  of  the  hall  lamp  the  commander 
read  the  pencilled  superscription  of  the  gummed  envelope 
and  the  word  "  Immediate  "  at  the  corner.  The  same 
light  fell  on  a  dozen  anxious,  pleading  faces  beyond  the 
steps.  His  hand  shook  in  spite  of  himself,  and  he  knew 
he  could  not  open  and  read  it  in  their  presence.  "  One 
moment,"  he  said,  his  heart  going  out  to  them  in  sympathy 
as  well  as  dread.  "  You  shall  hear  in  one  moment,"  and 
turned  aside  into  the  little  army  parlor. 

But  he  could  not  turn  from  his  wife  and  child.  They 
followed  and  stood  studying  his  pale  face  as  he  read  the 
fateful  words  that  told  so  little,  yet  so  much : — 

Reached  Ray  just  in  time.  Sharp  afifair.  Dr.  Waller  will 
have  to  come  at  once,  as  Tracy  goes  on  with  us  to  rescue  stage 
people  at  Dry  Fork.  Better  send  infantry  escort  and  all  hos- 
pital attendants  that  can  be  possibly  spared;  also  chaplain.  Ser- 
geants Burroughs  and  Wing,  Corporal  Foot  and  Troopers  Denny, 
Flood,  Kerrigan  and  Preusser  killed.  Many  wounded — Lieu- 
tenant Field  seriously. 

Webb. 


CHAPTER  X 
"I'll  never  go  back" 

A  SHARP  affair  indeed  was  that  of  this  September 
day ! — a  fight  long  talked  of  on  the  frontier  if 
soon  forgotten  in  "  the  States."  Obedient  to  his 
orders  to  push  to  the  relief  of  the  imperilled  party  on  the 
Dry  Fork,  Ray  had  made  good  time  to  Moccasin  Ridge, 
even  though  saving  horses  and  men  for  the  test  of  the 
later  hours.  Well  he  knew  his  march  would  be  watched 
by  some  of  Stabber's  band,  but  little  did  he  dream  at  start- 
ing that  Indian  strategy  would  take  the  unusual  form  of 
dropping  what  promised  to  be  a  sure  thing,  leaving  the 
people  at  the  stage  station  to  the  guardianship  of  less  than 
a  dozen  braves,  and  launching  out  with  a  big  band  to  aid 
a  little  one  in  attack  on  one  lone  detachment  that  might 
not  come  at  all.  But  Lame  Wolf  reasoned  that  the  people 
penned  at  the  stage  station  were  in  no  condition  to  at- 
tempt escape.  They  were  safe  whenever  he  chose  to  re- 
turn to  them,  and  Lame  Wolf  knew  this  of  Stabber — 
that  he  had  long  been  a  hanger-on  about  the  military  reser- 
vations, that  he  had  made  a  study  of  the  methods  of  the 
white  chiefs,  that  he  was  able  to  almost  accurately  pre- 

"5 


ii6         A  DAUGHTER' OF  THE  SIOUX 

diet  what  their  course  would  be  in  such  event  as  this, 
and  that  Stabber  had  recently  received  accessions  whose 
boast  it  was  that  they  had  information  at  first  hand  of  the 
white  chief's  plans  and  intentions.  Stabber  had  sent 
swift  runners  to  Lame  WoU  urging  him  to  bring  his  war- 
riors to  aid  him  in  surrounding  the  first  troops  sent  forth 
from  Frayne.  Stabber  had  noted,  year  after  year,  that  it 
was  the  almost  invariable  poHcy  of  our  leaders  to  order 
a  small  force  at  the  start,  and  then,  when  that  was  crushed, 
to  follow  it  with  the  big  one  that  should  have  been  sent  in 
the  first  place.  Kennedy's  successful  coming  was  known 
to  Stabber  quite  as  soon  as  it  was  to  Webb.  It  may  well 
be  that  Stabber  let  him  through,  feeling  confident  what 
the  result  would  be,  and  then,  despite  a  certain  jealousy, 
not  confined  entirely  to  savage  rival  leaders,  Lame  Wolf 
had  confidence  in  Stabber's  judgment.  Ray  had  expected 
long  range  flank  fire,  and  possibly  occasional  resistance  in 
front;  but,  assured  of  Stabber's  paucity  in  numbers  and 
believing  Lame  Wolf  too  busy  to  send  Stabber  substantial 
aid,  he  thought  a  sharp  lesson  or  two  would  clear  his  front 
of  such  Indians  as  sought  to  check  him,  and  so  rode  se- 
renely forward,  rejoicing  in  his  mission  and  in  his  game 
and  devoted  little  command. 

"  Something  beyond  that  second  ridge,"  he  had  said  to 
Field,  in  sending  him  forward  with  the  bulk  of  the  pla- 
toon, and  Field,  who  had  been  silent  and  brooding,  woke 
at  the  summons  and,  all  animation  at  the  scent  of  danger, 
spurred  swiftly  ahead  to  join  the  advance  and  see  for  him- 
self what  manner  of  hindrance  awaited  them,  leaving  the 


"PLL  NEVER  GO  BACK"  117 

baker's  dozen  of  his  platoon  to  trot  steadily  on  under  lead 
of  its  sergeant,  while  Ray,  with  his  trumpeter,  follqwed 
mid  way  between  his  advance  and  Clayton's  platoon,  in- 
tact, moving  quietly  at  the  walk  and  held  in  reserve. 

Ordinarily  Ray  would  himself  have  ridden  to  the  far 
front  and  personally  investigated  the  conditions,  but  he 
was  anxious  that  Field  should  understand  he  held  the  full 
confidence  of  his  temporary  commander.  He  wished  Field 
to  realize  that  now  he  had  opportunity  for  honorable  dis- 
tinction, and  a  chance  to  show  what  was  in  him  and,  hav- 
ing sent  him  forward,  Ray  meant  to  rely  on  his  reports 
and  be  ready  to  back,  if  possible,  his  dispositions.  Noth- 
ing so  quickly  demolishes  prejudice  in  garrison  as  prowess 
in  the  field.  Not  infrequently  has  an  officer  gone  forth 
under  a  cloud  and  returned  under  a  crown.  It  is  so 
much  easier  to  be  a  hero  in  a  single  fight  than  a  model 
soldier  through  an  entire  season — at  least  it  was  so  in  the 
old  days. 

But  the  moment  Mr.  Field  dismounted  and,  leaving  his 
horse  with  the  others  along  the  slope,  had  gone  crouching 
to  the  crest,  he  levelled  his  glasses  for  one  look,  then 
turned  excitedly  and  began  rapid  signals  to  his  followers. 
Presently  a  young  trooper  came  charging  down,  making 
straight  for  Ray.  "  The  lieutenant's  compliments,"  said 
he,  "  but  there's  a  dozen  Sioux  in  sight,  and  he  wishes  to 
know  shall  he  charge." 

'  A  dozen  Sioux  in  sight!  That  was  unusual.  Ordi- 
narily the  Indian  keeps  in  hiding,  lurking  behind  sheltering 
crests  and  ridges  in  the  open  country,  or  the  trees  and 


ii8        A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

underbrush  where  such  cover  is  possible.  A  dozen  in 
sight  ? 

"  How  far  ahead,  Murray  ?  "  asked  the  captain,  as  he 
shook  free  his  rein  and  started  forward  at  the  gallop. 
"  Did  you  see  them  yourself  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  Most  of  'em  were  bunched  by  the  roadside, 
jabbing  with  their  lances  at  something  or  other.  Two  or 
three  were  closer  in.  They  must  ha'  been  watching  us, for 
they  only  quit  the  ridge  just  before  we  came  up.  Then  they 
skedaddled."  The  vernacular  of  the  civil  war  days,  long 
since  forgotten  except  about  the  few  Veteran  Soldiers' 
Homes  in  the  East,  was  still  in  use  at  times  in  regiments 
like  the  — th,  which  had  served  the  four  years  through 
with  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  Old  sergeants  give  the 
tone  to  younger  soldiers  in  all  the  customs  of  the  service. 
The  captain  and  the  two  men  now  with  him  had  caught 
up  with  Field's  swift  trotting  support  by  this  time,  and 
the  eyes  of  the  men  kindled  instantly  at  sight  of  their 
leader  speeding  easily  by,  cool,  confident  and  as  thoroughly 
at  home  as  though  it  were  the  most  ordinary  skirmish 
drill.  Those  who  have  never  tried  it,  do  not  quite  realize 
what  it  means  to  ride  in  closed  ranks  and  compact  column, 
silent  and  unswerving,  straight  forward  over  open  fields 
toward  some  equally  silent  crest,  that  gives  no  sign  of 
hostile  occupancy,  and  yet  may  suddenly  blaze  with  venge- 
ful fires  and  spit  its  hissing  lead  into  the  faces  of  the  ad- 
vancing force.  Even  here  where  the  ridge  was  already 
gained  by  two  or  three  of  the  advance,  proving,  there- 
fore, that  the  enemy  could  not  be  in  possession,  men  saw 


"  I'LL  NEVER  GO  BACK  "  119 

by  the  excitement  manifest  in  the  signals  of  the  lieutenant, 
and  indeed  of  Sergeant  Scott,  who  had  spent  fifteen  years 
in  the  ranks,  that  Indians  must  be  close  at  hand.  The 
crest  was  barely  five  hundred  yards  in  front  of  the  sec- 
tion, and  they  were  still  "  bunched,"  a  splendid  mark  if 
the  foe  saw  fit  by  sudden  dash  to  regain  the  ridge  and 
pour  in  rapid  fire  from  their  magazine  rifles.  Every 
ward  of  the  nation,  as  a  rule,  had  his  Winchester  or  Henry, 
— about  a  six  to  one  advantage  to  the  red  men  over  the 
sworn  soldier  of  the  government  in  a  short  range  fight. 
The  lieutenant  was  a  brave  lad  and  all  that,  and  could  be 
relied  on  to  "  do  his  share  in  a  shindy,"  as  the  sergeant 
put  it,  but  when  it  came  to  handling  the  troop  to  the  best 
advantage,  giving  them  full  swing  when  they  met  the  foe 
on  even  terms  and  a  fair  field,  but  holding  them  clear  of 
possible  ambuscade,  then  "  Captain  Billy  is  the  boss  in  the 
business,"  was  the  estimate  of  his  men,  and  every  heart 
beat  higher  at  sight  of  him.  He  would  know  just  what 
to  do  for  them,  and  knowing,  would  do  it. 

Even  as  he  went  loping  by  Ray  had  half  turned,  with 
something  like  a  smile  in  his  dark  eyes  and  a  nod  of  his 
curly  head  to  the  sergeant  commanding,  and  a  gesture  of 
the  gauntleted  hand, — a  horiontal  sweep  to  right  and  left, 
twice  repeated, — had  given  the  veteran  his  cue,  and  with 
another  moment  Winsor  had  the  dozen  in  line  at  open, 
yet  narrow,  intervals,  with  carbines  advanced  and  ready 
for  business.  They  saw  their  captain  ride  swiftly  up  the 
gentle  slope  until  close  to  the  crest,  then  off  he  sprang, 
tossed  his  reins  to  the  trumpeter  and  went  hurrying  afoot 


120         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

to  join  the  lieutenant.  They  saw  him  kneehng  as  though 
to  level  his  glasses  and  look  fixedly  forward;  saw  Field 
run  back  to  his  horse  and  mount  in  a  twinkling;  saw  him 
whirl  about  as  though  coming  to  place  himself  at  their 
head,  yet  rein  in  at  once — his  charger's  fore  feet  plough- 
ing the  turf  at  some  word  from  their  leader.  Field  was 
eager  to  charge,  but  Ray  had  seen  for  himself  and  for  his 
men,  and  Ray  said,  no.  Another  moment  and  all  at  the 
front  were  again  in  saddle — Field  back  with  the  advance, 
Ray  coolly  seated  astride  his  pet  sorrel, — scouting  a  second 
ridge,  far  to  the  north,  with  his  glasses,  and  sending,  as 
before,  Scott  and  his  three  troopers  straight  on  to  the 
front,  and  signalling  to  the  flankers  to  continue  the  move. 
Ten  seconds'  study  of  the  position  in  the  long,  wide,  shal- 
low depression  before  him  had  fathomed  the  scheme  of 
the  savage.  The  little  knot  of  Indians,  jabbering,  yelping, 
prodding  and  circling  about  some  unseen  object  on  the 
turf,  feigning  ignorance  of  the  soldiers*  coming,  was  at 
the  old-time  trick  to  get  the  foremost  troopers  to  charge 
and  chase,  to  draw  them  on  in  all  the  dash  and  excitement 
of  the  moment,  far  ahead — three  miles,  perhaps — of  the 
main  body,  and  so  enable  all  the  lurking  band  behind  that 
second  curtain,  the  farther  ridge,  to  come  swooping  down 
to  surround,  overwhelm  and  butcher  the  luckless  few,  then 
be  off  to  safe  distance  long  before  the  mass  of  the  troop 
could  possibly  reach  the  scene. 

"  No  you  don't,  Stabber ! "  laughed  Ray,  as  Field,  not 
a  little  chagrined,  and  the  dozen  at  his  back,  came  trotting 
within  hearing  distance.     "  That  dodge  was  bald-headed 


"I'LL  NEVER  GO  BACK"  121 

when  I  was  a  baby.  Look,  Field,"  he  continued.  "  They 
were  jabbing  at  nothing  there  on  the  prairie.  That  was 
a  fake  captive  they  were  stabbing  to  death.  See  them  all 
scooting  away  now.  They'll  rally  beyond  that  next  ridge, 
and  we'll  do  a  little  fooling  of  our  own." 

And  so,  with  occasional  peep  at  feathered  warriors  on 
the  far  left  flank,  and  frequent  hoverings  of  small  parties 
on  the  distant  front,  Ray's  nervy  half  hundred  pushed 
steadily  on.  Two  experiments  had  satisfied  the  Sioux  that 
the  captain  himself  was  in  command  and  they  had  long 
since  recognized  the  sorrels.  They  knew  of  old  Ray  was 
not  to  be  caught  by  time-worn  tricks.  They  had  failed  to 
pick  off  the  advance,  or  the  officers,  as  the  troop  ap- 
proached the  second  ridge.  Lame  Wolf's  big  band  was 
coming  fast,  but  only  a  dozen  of  his  warriors,  sent  lashing 
forward,  had  as  yet  reached  Stabber.  The  latter  was  too 
weak  in  numbers  to  think  of  fighting  on  even  terms,  and 
as  Ray  seemed  determined  to  come  ahead,  why  not  let  him  ? 
Word  was  sent  to  Wolf  not  to  risk  showing  south  of  the 
Elk  Tooth  spur.  There  in  the  breaks  and  ravines  would 
be  a  famous  place  to  lie  in  ambush,  leaving  to  Stabber  the 
duty  of  drawing  the  soldiers  into  the  net.  So  there  in  the 
breaks  they  waited  while  Ray's  long  skirmish  line  easily 
manoeuvred  the  red  sharp-shooters  out  of  their  lair  on  the 
middle  divide.  Then,  reforming  column,  the  little  com- 
mand bore  straight  away  for  the  Elk. 

But  all  these  diversions  took  time.  Twenty  miles  to 
the  north  of  Frayne  stretched  the  bold  divide  between  the 
Elk  Fork,  dry  as  a  dead  tooth  much  of  the  year,  and  the 


122  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

sandy  bottom  of  the  Box  Elder.  Here  and  there  along 
the  ridge  were  sudden,  moundlike  upheavals  that  gave  it 
a  picturesque,  castellated  effect,  for,  unlike  the  general 
run  of  the  country,  the  Elk  Tooth  seemed  to  have  a  back- 
bone of  rock  that  shot  forth  southeastv^^ard  from  the 
southern  limit  of  the  beautiful  Big  Horn  range;  and,  in 
two  or  three  places,  during  some  prehistoric  convulsion  of 
nature,  it  had  crushed  itself  out  of  shape  and  forced  up- 
ward a  mass  of  gleaming  rock  that  even  in  the  course  of 
centuries  had  not  been  overgrown  with  grass.  "  Elk 
teeth"  the  Indians  had  called  these  odd  projections,  and 
one  of  them,  the  middle  one  of  the  three  most  prominent, 
was  a  landmark  seen  for  many  a  mile  except  to  the  south 
and  west.  Eagle  Butte  was  the  only  point  south  of  the 
Big  Horn  and  in  the  valley  of  the  Platte  from  which  it 
could  be  seen,  and  famous  were  these  two  points  in  the 
old  days  of  the  frontier  for  the  beacon  fires  that  burned  or 
the  mirror  signals  that  flashed  on  their  summits  when  the 
war  parties  of  the  Sioux  were  afield. 

It  was  the  sight  of  puffs  of  smoke  sailing  skyward  from 
the  crest  of  the  middle  tooth  that  caught  Ray's  attention 
the  moment  he  reached  the  second  ridge.  A  moment 
more  had  been  devoted  to  recalling  some  of  his  eager  men 
who,  from  the  extreme  right  of  the  swinging  skirmish  line, 
had  broken  away  in  pursuit  of  certain  intentional  lag- 
gards. Then  a  dozen  of  the  Indians,  finding  themselves 
no  longer  followed,  gathered  at  comparatively  safe  dis- 
tance across  the  prairie,  and,  while  in  eager  consultation, 
found   time   for   taunting,  challenging   and   occasionally 


"I'LL  NEVER  GO  BACK"  123 

firing  at  the  distant  and  angering  troopers,  whom  Sergeant 
Scott  had  sharply  ordered  back,  and  Ray,  after  calm  sur- 
vey of  these  fellows  through  his  glass,  had  then  levelled  it 
at  the  trio  of  buttes  along  the  distant  ridge  and  turned  to 
Field,  sitting  silent  and  disappointed  by  his  side. 

"  There,  Field,"  said  the  captain.  "  Take  this  glass 
and  look  at  those  signal  smokes — Stabber  has  more  rrien 
now  at  his  call  than  he  had  when  he  started,  and  more  yet 
are  coming.  They  were  just  praying  you  would  charge 
with  a  handful  of  men.  They  would  have  let  you  through, 
then  closed  around  and  cut  you  off.    Do  you  see,  boy  ?  " 

Field  touched  his  hat  brim.  "  You  know  them  best, 
sir,"  was  the  brief  answer.  "  What  I  wanted  was  a  chance 
at  those  fellows  hanging  about  our  front  and  calling  us 
names." 

"  You'll  get  it,  I'm  thinking,  before  we're  an  hour  older. 
They  know  whither  we're  bound  and  mean  to  delay  us 
all  they  can.  Ah,  Clayton,"  he  added,  as  the  junior  lieu- 
tenant rode  up  to  join  them,  while  his  platoon  dismounted 
to  reset  saddles  behind  the  screen  of  the  skirmish  line. 
"  Men  look  full  of  fight,  don't  they  ?  There,  if  anywhere, 
is  where  we'll  get  it.  I've  just  been  showing  Field  those 
signal  smokes.  Mount  and  follow  when  we're  half  way 
down  to  that  clump  of  cottonwoods  yonder.  We  must 
reach  those  people  at  the  stage  station  to-night,  and  I  may 
have  to  give  these  beggars  a  lesson  first.  Watch  for  my 
signal  and  come  ahead  lively  if  I  turn  toward  you  and 
swing  my  hat.    All  ready,  Field.     Shove  ahead." 

And  this  was  the  last  conference  between  the  three  of- 


124  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

ficers  that  eventful  morning.  As  once  again  the  advance 
guard  pushed  cautiously  forward  toward  the  banks  of  the 
arroyo  in  the  bottom,  Ray  turned  to  Field.  "  Skirmish 
work  suits  you  better  than  office  duty,  Field.  You  look 
far  livelier  than  you  did  yesterday.  Don't  you  begin  to 
see  that  the  major  was  right  in  sending  you  out  with  us  ?  " 
And  the  dark  eyes  of  the  trained  and  experienced  soldier 
shone  kindly  into  the  face  of  the  younger  man. 

"  Fm  glad  to  be  with  you,  Captain  Ray,"  was  the 
prompt  answer.  '*  It  isn't — my  being  sent,  but  the  way 
I  was  sent,  or  the — cause  for  which  I  was  sent  that  stings 
me.  I  thought  then,  and  I  think  now,  that  if  you  had  been 
post  commander  it  wouldn't  have  been  done.  I  don't 
know  yet  what  charge  has  been  laid  at  my  door "     ^ 

"  There  was  no  time  to  talk  of  reasons.  Field,"  inter- 
posed Ray,  though  his  keen  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  dis- 
tant ridge  ahead,  beyond  which  the  last  of  the  Indians  had 
now  disappeared.  The  outermost  troopers,  with  Ser- 
geant Scott,  were  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  the  little 
clump  of  cottonwoods  that  marked  the  site  of  a  water 
hole.  To  the  right  and  left  of  it  curved  and  twisted  the 
dry  water  course  between  its  low,  jagged,  precipitous 
banks.  Behind  the  advance,  full  four  hundred  yards, 
rode  the  skirmish  line  from  the  first  platoon,  a  dozen 
strong.  Far  out  to  the  east  and  west  the  flankers  moved 
steadily  northward,  keenly  watching  the  slopes  beyond 
them  and  scanning  the  crooked  line  of  the  arroyo  ahead. 
Not  a  sign  at  the  moment  could  be  seen  of  the  painted  foe, 
yet  every  man  in  the  troop  well  knew  they  swarmed  by 


"I'LL  NEVER  GO  BACK"  125 

dozens  behind  the  buttes  and  ridges  ahead.  Ray  and 
Pleld,  riding  easily  along  in  rear  of  the  line,  with  only  the 
trumpeter  within  earshot,  relaxed  in  no  measure  the  vigi- 
lance demanded  by  the  situation,  yet  each  was  deeply  con- 
cerned in  the  subject  of  the  talk. 

"  There  was  no  time.  We  had  to  start  at  once,"  con- 
tinued Ray.  "  Wait  until  you  are  back  at  the  old  desk, 
Field,  and  you'll  find  the  major  is,  and  was,  your  stanch 
friend  in  this  matter — " 

"  I'll  never  go  back  to  it,  captain !  "  broke  in  Field, 
impetuously.  "  If  ordered  to  resume  duty  as  adjutant, 
come  what  may,  I  shall  refuse." 

But  before  Ray  could  interpose  again  there  came  sudden 
and  stirring  interruption.  From  a  point  far  down  the 
*'  swale,"  from  behind  the  low  bank  of  the  stream  bed, 
three  rifle  shots  rang  out  on  the  crisp  morning  air.  The 
horse  of  the  leading  flanker,  away  out  to  the  right,  reared 
and  plunged  violently,  the  rider  seeming  vainly  to  strive 
to  check  him.  Almost  instantly  three  mounted  warriors 
were  seen  tearing  madly  away  northeastward  out  of  the 
gully,  their  feathers  streaming  in  the  wind.  Field  spurred 
away  to  join  his  men.  Ray  whirled  about  in  saddle,  and 
swung  his  broad-brimmed  scouting  hat  high  above  his 
head,  in  signal  to  Clayton ;  then  shouted  to  Field.  "  For- 
ward to  the  cottonwoods.  Gallop !  "  he  cried.  "  We  need 
them  first  of  all!" 


CHAPTER  XI 
A  FIGHT  WITH  A  FURY 

THE  noonday  sun  was  staring  hotly  down,  an  hour 
later,  on  a  stirring  picture  of  frontier  warfare, 
with  that  clump  of  cottonwoods  as  the  central 
feature.  Well  for  Ray's  half  hundred,  that  brilliant 
autumn  morning,  that  their  leader  had  had  so  many  a 
year  of  Indian  campaigning!  He  now  seemed  to  know 
by  instinct  every  scheme  of  his  savage  foe  and  to  act  ac- 
cordingly. Ever  since  the  command  had  come  in  sight  of 
the  Elk  Tooth  the  conviction  had  been  growing  on  Ray 
that  Stabber  must  have  received  many  accessions  and  was 
counting  on  the  speedy  coming  of  others.  The  signal 
smokes  across  the  wide  valley ;  the  frequent  essays  to  tempt 
his  advance  guard  to  charge  and  chase ;  the  boldness  with 
which  the  Indians  showed  on  front  and  flank ;  the  daring 
pertinacity  with  which  they  clung  to  the  stream  bed  for 
the  sake  of  a  few  shots  at  the  foremost  troopers,  relying, 
evidently,  on  the  array  of  their  comrades  beyond  the  ridge 
to  overwhelm  any  force  that  gave  close  pursuit;  the  fact 
that  other  Indians  opened  on  the  advance  guard  and  the 
left  flankers,  and  that  a  dozen,  at  least,  tore  away  out  of 

ia6 


A  FIGHT  WITH  A  FURY  127 

the  sandy  arroyo  the  moment  they  saw  the  line  start  at 
the  gallop ; — all  these  had  tended  to  convince  the  captain 
that,  now  at  last,  when  he  was  miles  from  home  and 
succor,  the  Sioux  stood  ready  in  abundant  force  to  give 
him  desperate  battle. 

To  dart  on  in  chase  of  the  three  warriors  would  simply 
result  in  the  scattering  of  his  own  people  and  their  being 
individually  cut  off  and  stricken  down  by  circling  swarms 
of  their  red  foes.  To  gather  his  men  and  attempt  to  force 
the  passage  of  the  Elk  Tooth  ridge  meant  certain  de- 
struction of  the  whole  command.  The  Sioux  would  be 
only  to  glad  to  scurry  away  from  their  front  and  let  them 
through,  and  then  in  big  circle  whirl  all  about  him,  pour- 
ing in  a  concentric  fire  that  would  be  sure  to  hit  some,  at 
least,  exposed  as  they  would  be  on  the  open  prairie, 
while  their  return  shots,  radiating  wildly  at  the  swift- 
darting  warriors,  would  be  almost  as  sure  to  miss.  He 
would  soon  be  weighted  down  with  wounded,  refusing  to 
leave  them  to  be  butchered;  unable,  therefore,  to  move 
in  any  direction,  and  so  compelled  to  keep  up  a  shelterless, 
hopeless  fight  until,  one  by  one,  he  and  his  gallant  fellows 
fell,  pierced  by  Indian  lead,  and  sacrificed  to  the  scalping 
knife  as  were  Custer's  three  hundred  a  decade  before. 

No,  Ray  knew  too  much  of  frontier  strategy  to  be  so 
caught.  There  stood  the  little  grove  of  dingy  green,  a 
prairie  fortress,  if  one  knew  how  to  use  it.  There  in  the 
sand  of  the  stream  bed,  by  digging,  were  they  sure  to 
find  water  for  the  wounded,  if  wounded  there  had  to  be. 
There  by  the  aid  of  a  few  hastily  thrown  intrenchments 


128  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

he  could  have  a  little  plains  fort  and  be  ready  to  repel  even 
an  attack  in  force.  Horses  could  be  herded  in  the  depths 
of  the  sandy  shallows.  Men  could  be  distributed  in  big 
circle  through  the  trees  and  along  the  bank;  and,  with 
abundant  rations  in  their  haversacks  and  water  to  be  had 
for  the  digging,  they  could  hold  out  like  heroes  until  re- 
lief should  come  from  the  south. 

Obviously,  therefore,  the  cottonwood  grove  was  the 
place,  and  thither  at  thundering  charge  Field  led  the  fore- 
most line,  while  Ray  waved  on  the  second,  all  hands  cheer- 
ing with  glee  at  sight  of  the  Sioux  darting  wildly  away  up 
the  northward  slope.  Ten  men  in  line,  far  extended,  were 
sent  right  forward  half  way  across  the  flats,  ordered  to 
drive  the  Indians  from  the  bottom  and  cripple  as  many  as 
possible ;  but,  if  menaced  by  superior  numbers,  to  fall  back 
at  the  gallop,  keeping  well  away  from  the  front  of  the 
grove,  so  that  the  fire  of  its  garrison  might  not  be 
"  masked."  The  ten  had  darted  after  the  scurrying  war- 
riors, full  half  way  to  the  beginning  of  the  slope,  and  then, 
just  as  Ray  had  predicted,  down  came  a  cloud  of  brilHant 
foemen,  seeking  to  swallow  the  little  ten  alive.  Instantly 
their  sergeant  leader  whirled  them  about  and,  pointing 
the  way,  led  them  in  wide  circle,  horses  well  in  hand,  back 
to  the  dry  wash,  then  down  into  its  sandy  depths.  Here 
every  trooper  sprang  from  saddle,  and  with  the  rein 
looped  on  the  left  arm,  and  from  the  shelter  of  the 
straight,  stiff  banks,  opened  sharp  fire  on  their  pursuers, 
just  as  Clayton's  platoon,  dismounting  at  the  grove, 
sprang  to  the  nearest  cover  and  joined  in  the  fierce  clamor 


A  FIGHT  WITH  A  FURY  129 

of  carbines.  Racing  down  the  slope  at  top  speed  as  were 
the  Sioux,  they  could  not  all  at  once  check  the  way  of 
their  nimble  mounts,  and  the  ardor  of  the  chase  had  car- 
ried them  far  down  to  the  flats  before  the  fierce  crackle 
began.  Then  it  was  thrilling  to  watch  them,  veering,  cir- 
cling, sweeping  to  right  or  left,  ever  at  furious  gallop, 
throwing  their  lithe,  painted  bodies  behind  their  chargers' 
necks,  clinging  with  one  leg  and  arm,  barely  showing  so 
much  as  an  eyelid,  yet  yelping  and  screeching  like  so 
many  coyotes,  not  one  of  their  number  coming  within  four 
hundred  yards  of  the  slender  fighting  line  in  the  stream 
bed ;  some  of  them,  indeed,  disdaining  to  stoop,  riding  de- 
fiantly along  the  front,  firing  wildly  as  they  rode,  yet 
surely  and  gradually  guiding  their  ponies  back  to  the 
higher  ground,  back  out  of  harm's  way ;  and,  in  five  min- 
utes from  the  time  they  had  flashed  into  view,  coming 
charging  over  the  mile  away  ridge,  not  a  red  warrior  was 
left  on  the  low  ground, — only  three  or  four  luckless 
ponies,  kicking  in  their  last  struggles  or  stiffening  on  the 
turf,  while  their  riders,  wounded  or  unhurt,  had  been 
picked  up  and  spirited  away  with  the  marvellous  skill 
only  known  to  these  warriors  of  the  plains. 

Then  Ray  and  his  men  had  time  to  breathe  and  shout 
laughing  comment  and  congratulation.  Not  one,  as  yet, 
was  hit  or  hurt.  They  were  secure  for  the  time  in  a 
strong  position,  and  had  signally  whipped  off  the  first  as- 
sault of  the  Sioux. 

Loudly,  excitedly,  angrily  these  latter  were  now  con- 
ferring again  far  up  the  slope  to  the  north.    At  least  an 


130  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

hundred  in  one  concourse,  they  were  having  hot  discussion 
over  the  untoward  result  of  the  dash.  Others,  obedient 
to  orders  from  the  chief,  were  circHng  far  out  to  east  and 
west  and  crossing  the  valley  above  and  below  the  position 
of  the  defence.  Others,  still,  were  galloping  back  to  the 
ridge,  where,  against  the  sky  line,  strong  bodies  of  war- 
riors could  be  plainly  seen,  moving  excitedly  to  and  fro. 
Two  little  groups  slowly  making  their  way  to  the  crest 
gave  no  little  comfort  to  the  boys  in  blue.  Some,  at  least, 
of  the  charging  force  had  been  made  to  feel  the  bite  of  the 
cavalry  weapon,  and  were  being  borne  to  the  rear. 

But  no  time  was  to  be  wasted.  Already  from  far  up  the 
stream  bed  two  or  three  Indians  were  hazarding  long- 
range  shots  at  the  grove,  and  Ray  ordered  all  horses  into 
a  bend  of  the  "  wash,"  where  the  side  lines  were  whipped 
from  the  blanket  straps  and  the  excited  sorrels  securely 
hoppled.  Then,  here,  there  and  in  a  score  of  places  along 
the  bank  and  again  at  the  edge  of  the  cottonwoods,  men 
had  been  assigned  their  stations  and  bidden  to  find  cover 
for  themselves  without  delay.  Many  burrowed  in  the  soft 
and  yielding  soil,  throwing  the  earth  forward  in  front  of 
them.  Others  utilized  fallen  trees  or  branches.  Some 
two  or  three  piled  saddles  and  blanket  rolls  into  a  low 
barricade,  and  all,  while  crouching  about  their  work, 
watched  the  feathered  warriors  as  they  steadily  completed 
their  big  circle  far  out  on  the  prairie.  Bullets  came  whis- 
tling now  fast  and  frequently,  nipping  off  leaves  and  twigs 
and  causing  many  a  fellow  to  duck  instinctively  and  to 
look  about  him,  ashamed  of  his  dodge,  yet  sure  of  the  fact 


A  FIGHT  WITH  A  FURY  131 

that  time  had  been  in  the  days  of  the  most  hardened 
veteran  of  the  troop  when  he,  too,  knew  what  it  was  to 
shrink  from  the  whistle  of  hostile  lead.  It  would  be  but 
a  moment  pr  two,  they  all  understood,  before  the  foe 
would  decide  on  the  next  move;  then  every  man  would 
be  needed. 

Meantime,  having  stationed  Field  on  the  north  front, 
with  orders  to  note  every  movement  of  the  Sioux,  and 
having  assigned  Clayton  to  the  minor  duty  of  watching 
the  south  front  and  the  flanks,  Ray  was  moving  cheerily 
among  his  men,  speeding  from  cover  to  cover,  suggesting 
here,  helping  there,  alert,  even  joyous  in  manner.  "  We 
couldn't  have  a  better  roost,  lads,"  he  said.  **  We  can 
stand  off  double  their  number  easy.  We  can  hold  out  a 
week  if  need  be,  but  you  bet  the  major  will  be  reaching 
out  after  us  before  we're  two  days  older.  Don't  waste 
your  shots.  Coax  them  close  in.  Don't  fire  at  a  gallop- 
ing Indian  beyond  three  hundred  yards.  It's  waste  of 
powder  and  lead." 

Cheerily,  joyously  they  answered  him,  these  his  com- 
rades, his  soldier  children,  men  who  had  fought  with  him, 
many  of  their  number,  in  a  dozen  fields,  and  men  who 
would  stand  by  him,  their  dark-eyed  little  captain,  to  the 
last.  Even  the  youngest  trooper  of  the  fifty  seemed  in- 
spired by  the  easy,  laughing  confidence  of  the  lighter 
hearts  among  their  number,  or  the  grim,  matter  of  fact 
pugnacity  of  the  older  campaigners.  It  was  significant, 
too,  that  the  Indians  seemed  so  divided  in  mind  as  to  the 
next  move.    There  was  loud  wrangling  and  much  dispu« 


132  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

tation  going  on  in  that  savage  council  to  the  north.  Stab- 
ber's  braves  and  Lame  Wolf's  followers  seemed  bitterly 
at  odds,  for  old  hands  in  the  fast -growing  rifle  pits  pointed 
out  on  one  side  as  many  as  half  a  dozen  of  the  former's 
warriors  whom  they  recognized  and  knew  by  sight,  while 
Ray,  studying  the  shifting  concourse  through  his  glasses, 
could  easily  see  Stabber  himself  raging  among  them  in 
violent  altercation  with  a  tall,  superbly  built  and  bedizened 
young  brave,  a  sub-chief,  apparently,  who  for  his  part, 
seemed  giving  Stabber  as  good  as  he  got.  Lame  Wolf 
was  not  in  sight  at  all.  He  might  still  be  far  from  the 
scene,  and  this  tall  warrior  be  acting  as  his  representative. 
But  whoever  or  whatever  he  was  he  had  hearty  following. 
More  than  three-fourths  of  the  wrangling  warriors  in  the 
group  seemed  backing  him.  Ray,  after  a  few  words  to 
Sergeant  Winsor,  crawled  over  beside  his  silent  and  ab- 
sorbed young  second  in  command,  and,  bringing  his 
glasses  to  bear,  gazed  across  a  low  parapet  of  sand  long 
and  fixedly  at  the  turbulent  throng  a  thousand  yards  away. 

"  It's  easy  to  make  out  Stabber,"  he  presently  spoke. 
"  One  can  almost  hear  that  foghorn  voice  of  his.  But 
who  the  mischief  is  that  red  villain  opposing  him  ?  I've 
seen  every  one  of  their  chiefs  in  the  last  five  years.  All 
are  men  of  forty  or  more.  This  fellow  can't  be  a  big 
chief.  He  looks  long  years  younger  than  most  of  'em,  old 
Lame  Wolf,  for  instance,  yet  he's  cheeking  Stabber  as  if 
he  owned  the  whole  outfit."  Another  long  stare,  then 
again — "  Who  the  mischief  can  he  be  ?  " 

No  answer  at  his  side,  and  Ray,  with  the  lenses  still  at 


A  FIGHT  WITH  A  FURY  133 

his  eyes,  took  no  note  for  the  moment  that  Field  remained 
so  silent.  Out  at  the  front  the  excitement  increased. 
Out  through  the  veil  of  surging  warriors,  the  loud-voiced, 
impetuous  brave  twice  burst  his  way,  and  seemed  at  one 
and  the  same  time,  in  his  superb  poise  and  gesturings, 
to  be  urging  the  entire  body  to  join  him  in  instant  assault 
on  the  troops,  and  hurling  taunt  and  anathema  on  the  be- 
sieged. Whoever  he  was,  he  was  in  a  veritable  fury. 
As  many  as  half  of  the  Indians  seemed  utterly  carried 
away  by  his  fiery  words,  and  with  much  shouting  and 
gesticulation  and  brandishing  of  gun  and  lance,  were  yell- 
ing approbation  of  his  views  and  urging  Stabber's  people 
to  join  them.  More  furious  language  followed  and  much 
dashing  about  of  excited  ponies. 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  that  fellow  before  ?  "  demanded 
Ray,  of  brown-eyed  Sergeant  Winsor,  who  had  spent  a 
lifetime  on  the  plains,  but  Winsor  was  plainly  puzzled. 

"  I  can't  say  for  the  life  of  me,  sir,"  was  the  answer. 
**  I  don't  know  him  at  all — and  yet — " 

"  Whoever  he  is,  by  Jove,"  said  Ray,  "  he's  a  bigger 
man  this  day  than  Stabber,  for  he's  winning  the  fight. 
Now,  if  he  only  leads  the  dash  as  he  does  the  debate,  we 
can  pick  him  off.  Who  are  our  best  shots  on  this  front  ?  " 
and  eagerly  he  scanned  the  few  faces  near  him,  "  Web- 
ber's tiptop  and  good  for  anything  under  five  hundred 
yards  when  he  isn't  excited,  and  Stoltz,  he's  a  keen,  cool 
one.  No !  not  you,  Hogan,"  laughed  the  commander,  as 
a  freckled  faced  veteran  popped  his  head  up  over  a  nearby 
parapet  of  sand,  and  grinned  his  desire  to  be  included. 


134  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

"  I've  never  seen  the  time  you  could  hit  what  you  aimed 
at.  Slip  out  of  that  hole  and  find  Webber  and  tell  him  to 
come  here — and  you  take  his  burrow."  Whereupon 
Hogan,  grinning  rueful  acquiescence  in  his  commander's 
criticism,  slid  backwards  into  the  stream  bed  and,  followed 
by  the  chaff  of  the  three  or  four  comrades  near  enough 
to  catch  the  words,  went  crouching  from  post  to  post  in 
search  of  the  desired  marksman. 

*'  You  used  to  be  pretty  sure  with  the  carbine  in  the 
Tonto  Basin  when  we  were  after  Apaches,  sergeant,"  con- 
tinued Ray,  again  peering  through  the  glasses.  ''  I'm 
mistaken  in  this  fellow  if  he  doesn't  ride  well  within  range, 
and  we  must  make  an  example  of  him.  I  want  four  first 
class  shots  to  single  him  out." 

"  The  Heutenant  can  beat  the  best  I  ever  did,  sir,"  said 
Winsor,  with  a  lift  of  the  hand  toward  the  hat  brim,  as 
though  in  apology,  for  Field,  silent  throughout  the  brief 
conference,  had  half  risen  on  his  hands  and  knees  and 
was  edging  over  to  the  left,  apparently  seeking  to  reach 
the  shelter  of  a  little  hummock  close  to  the  bank. 

**  Why,  surely.  Field,"  was  the  quick  reply,  as  Ray 
turned  toward  his  junior.     "  That  will  make  it  complete." 

But  a  frantic  burst  of  yells  and  war  whoops  out  at  the 
front  put  sudden  stop  to  the  words.  The  throng  of  war- 
riors that  had  pressed  so  close  about  Stabber  and  the  op- 
posing orator  seemed  all  in  an  instant  to  split  asunder, 
and  with  trailing  war  bonnet  and  followed  by  only  two 
or  three  of  his  braves,  the  former  lashed  his  way  westward 
and  swept  angrily  out  of  the  ruck  and  went  circling  away 


I 


r^> 


A  FIGHT  WITH  A  FURY  135 

toward  the  crest,  while,  with  loud  acclamation,  brandish- 
ing shield  and  lance  and  rifle  in  superb  barbaric  tableau, 
the  warriors  lined  up  in  front  of  the  victorious  young 
leader  who,  sitting  high  in  his  stirrups,  with  one  magnifi- 
cent red  arm  uplifted,  began  shouting  in  the  sonorous 
tongue  of  the  Sioux  some  urgent  instructions.  Down 
from  the  distant  crest  came  other  braves  as  though  to  meet 
and  ask  Stabber  explanation  of  his  strange  quitting  the 
field.  Down  came  a  dozen  others,  young  braves  mad  for 
battle,  eager  to  join  the  ranks  of  this  new  leader,  and  Ray, 
who  had  turned  on  Field  once  more,  fixed  his  glasses  on 
that  stalwart,  nearly  stark  naked,  brilliantly  painted  form, 
foremost  of  the  Indian  array  and  now  at  last  in  full  and 
unimpeded  view. 

"  By  the  gods  of  war  1 "  he  cried.  "  I  never  saw  that 
scoundrel  before,  but  if  it  isn't  that  renegade  Red  Fox — 
Why,  here.  Field!  Take  my  glass  and  look.  You  were 
with  the  commissioners'  escort  last  year  at  the  Black 
Hills  council.  You  must  have  seen  him  and  heard  him 
speak.     Isn't  this  Red  Fox  himself  ?  " 

And  to  Ray's  surprise  the  young  officer's  eyes  were 
averted,  his  face  pale  and  troubled,  and  the  answer  was  a 
mere  mumble — "  I  didn't  meet  Fox — there,  captain." 

He  never  seemed  to  see  the  glass  held  out  to  him  until 
Ray  almost  thrust  it  into  his  hand  and  then  persisted  with 
his  inquiry. 

"  Look  at  him  anyhow.  You  may  have  seen  him  some- 
where.    Isn't  that  Red  Fox  ?  " 

And  now  Ray  was  gazing  straight  at  Field's  half  hidden 


136  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

face.  Field,  the  soul  of  frankness  hitherto,  the  lad  who 
was  never  known  to  flinch  from  the  eyes  of  any  man,  but 
to  answer  such  challenge  with  his  own, — ^brave,  fearless, 
sometimes  even  defiant.  Now  he  kept  the  big  binocular 
fixed  on  the  distant  hostile  array,  but  his  face  was  white, 
his  hand  unsteady  and  his  answer,  when  it  came,  was  in  a 
voice  that  Ray  heard  in  mingled  pain  and  wonderment. 
Could  it  be  that  the  lad  was  unnerved  by  the  sight?  In 
any  event,  he  seemed  utterly  unlike  himself. 

"  I — cannot   say,  sir.     It  was  dark — or  night  at  all 
events, — the  only  time  I  ever  heard  him." 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  ORDEAL  BY  FIRE 

THAT  action  had  been  resolved  upon,  and  prompt 
action,  was  now  apparent.  Stabber,  fighting  chief 
though  he  had  been  in  the  past,  had  had  his 
reason  for  opposing  the  plans  of  this  new  and  vehement 
leader ;  but  public  sentiment,  stirred  by  vehement  oratory, 
had  overruled  him,  and  he  had  bolted  the  field  convention 
in  a  fury.  Lame  Wolf,  a  younger  chief  than  Stabber, 
had  yet  more  power  among  the  Ogalallas,  being  Red 
Cloud's  favorite  nephew,  and  among  the  Indians  at  least, 
his  acknowledged  representative.  Whenever  called  to  ac- 
count, however,  for  that  nephew's  deeds,  the  wary  old 
statesman  promptly  disavowed  them.  It  was  in  search  of 
Lame  Wolf,  reasoned  Ray,  that  Stabber  had  sped  away, 
possibly  hoping  to  induce  him  to  call  off  his  followers. 
It  was  probably  the  deeper  strategy  of  Stabber  to  oppose 
no  obstacle  to  Ray's  advance  until  the  little  troop  was 
beyond  the  Elk  Tooth  ridge,  where,  on  utterly  shelterless 
ground,  the  Indian  would  have  every  advantage.  He 
knew  Ray  of  old ;  knew  well  that,  left  to  himself,  the  cap- 
tain would  push  on  in  the  effort  to  rescue  the  stage  people 
and  he  and  his  command  might  practically  be  at  the  mercy 

137 


138  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

of  the  Sioux,  if  only  the  Sioux  would  listen  and  be  patient. 
Stabber  knew  that  to  attack  the  troopers  now  entrenching 
at  the  cottonwoods  meant  a  desperate  fight  in  which  the 
Indians,  even  if  ultimately  triumphant,  must  lose  many  a 
valued  brave,  and  that  is  not  the  thoroughbred  Indian's 
view  of  good  generalship.  Stabber  was  old,  wily  and 
wise.  The  new  chief,  whoever  he  might  be,  seemed  pos- 
sessed of  a  mad  lust  for  instant  battle,  coupled  with  a 
possible  fear  that,  unless  the  golden  moment  were  seized, 
Ray  might  be  reinforced  and  could  then  defy  them  all. 
Indeed  there  were  veteran  campaigners  among  the  troopers 
who  noted  how  often  the  tall  red  chief  pointed  in  sweep- 
ing gesture  back  to  Moccasin  Ridge — troopers  who  even 
at  the  distance  caught  and  interpreted  a  few  of  his  words. 
"  That's  it,  sir,"  said  Winsor,  confidently  to  Ray. 
*'  He  says  '  more  soldiers  coming,*  and — I  believe  he 
knows." 

At  all  events  he  had  so  convinced  his  fellows  and,  even 
before  Stabber  reached  the  middle  tooth — where  sat  a 
little  knot  of  mounted  Indians,  signalling  apparently  to 
others  still  some  distance  to  the  north, — with  a  chorus 
of  exultant  yells,  the  long,  gaudy,  glittering  line  of  braves 
suddenly  scattered  and,  lashing  away  to  right  and  left, 
dozens  of  them  darted  at  top  speed  to  join  those  already 
disposed  about  that  big  circle,  while  others  still,  the  main 
body,  probably  seventy  strong,  after  some  barbaric  show 
of  circus  evolutions  about  their  leader,  once  more  reined 
up  for  some  final  injunctions  from  his  lips.  Then,  with  a 
magnificent  gesture  of  the  hand,  he  waved  them  on  and, 


fS 


Some  Few  of  their  Number  Borne  away  by  their  Comrades. 


THE  ORDEAL  BY  FIRE  139 

accompanied  by  only  two  young  riders,  rode  swiftly  away 
to  a  little  swell  of  the  prairie  just  out  of  range  of  the  car- 
bines, and  there  took  his  station  to  supervise  the  attack. 

"  Damn  him  !  "  growled  old  Winsor.  **  He's  no  charger 
like  Crazy  Horse.  He's  a  Sitting  Bull  breed  of  general — 
like  some  we  had  in  Virginia,"  he  added,  between  his  set 
teeth,  but  Ray  heard  and  grinned  in  silent  appreciation. 
"  Set  your  sights  and  give  'em  their  first  volley  as  they 
reach  that  scorched  line,"  he  called  to  the  men  along  the 
northward  front,  and  pointed  to  a  stretch  of  prairie  where 
the  dry  grass  had  lately  been  burned  away.  '*  Five  hun- 
dred yards  will  do  it.  Then  aim  low  when  they  rush 
closer  in." 

**  Look  at  the  middle  tooth,  captain,"  came  the  sudden 
hail  from  his  left.  "  Mirror  flashes !  See ! "  It  was 
Field  who  spoke,  and  life  and  vim  had  returned  to  his 
voice  and  color  to  his  face.  He  was  pointing  eagerly  to- 
ward the  highest  of  the  knobs,  where,  all  on  a  sudden, 
dazzling  little  beams  of  light  shot  forth  toward  the  In- 
dians in  the  lowlands,  tipping  the  war  bonnet  and  lance 
of  many  a  brave  with  dancing  fire.  Whatever  their  pur- 
port, the  signals  seemed  ignored  by  the  Sioux,  for  pres- 
ently two  riders  came  sweeping  down  the  long  slope, 
straight  for  the  point  where  sat  Red  Fox,  as,  for  want  of 
other  name,  we  must  for  the  present  call  him — who,  for 
his  part,  shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  sat  gazing  to- 
ward the  westward  side  of  his  warrior  circle,  evidently 
awaiting  some  demonstration  there  before  giving  signal 
for  action  elsewhere.     Obedient  to  his  first  instructions, 


HO         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

the  main  body  had  spread  out  in  long,  irregular  skirmisK 
rank,  their  mettlesome  ponies  capering  and  dancing  in 
their  eagerness.  Chanting  in  chorus  some  shrill,  weird 
song,  the  line  was  now  slowly,  steadily  advancing,  still 
too  far  away  to  warrant  the  wasting  of  a  shot,  yet  unmis- 
takably seeking  to  close  as  much  as  possible  before  burst- 
ing in  with  the  final  charge. 

And  still  the  red  leader  sat  at  gaze,  oblivious  for  the 
moment  of  everything  around  him,  ignoring  the  coming  of 
orders  possibly  from  Lame  Wolf  himself.  Suddenly  the 
silver  armlets  once  more  gleamed  on  high.  Then,  clap- 
ping the  palm  of  his  right  hand  to  his  mouth.  Red  Fox 
gave  voice  to  a  ringing  war  whoop,  fierce,  savage  and  ex- 
ultant, and,  almost  at  the  instant,  like  the  boom  and  rumble 
that  follows  some  vivid  lightning  flash,  the  prairie  woke 
and  trembled  to  the  thunder  of  near  a  thousand  hoofs. 
From  every  point  of  the  compass — from  every  side,  yell- 
ing like  fiends  of  some  orthodox  hell,  down  they  came — 
the  wild  warriors  of  the  frontier  in  furious  rush  upon  the 
silent  and  almost  peaceful  covert  of  this  little  band  of 
brothers  in  the  dusty  garb  of  blue.  One,  two,  three  hun- 
dred yards  they  came,  centering  on  the  leafy  clump  of 
Cottonwood s,  riding  at  tearing  gallop,  erect,  defiant,  daring 
at  the  start,  and  giving  full  voice  to  their  wild  war  cry. 
Then  bending  forward,  then  crouching  low,  then  flatten- 
ing out  like  hunted  squirrel,  for  as  the  foremost  in  the 
dash  came  thundering  on  within  good  carbine  range,  all  on 
a  sudden  the  watch  dogs  of  the  little  plains  fort  began  to 
bark.    Tiny  jets  of  flame  and  smoke  shot  from  the  level 


THE  ORDEAL  BY  FIRE  141 

of  the  prairie,  from  over  dingy  mounds  of  sand,  from  be- 
hind the  trunks  of  stunted  trees,  from  low  parapet  of  log 
or  leather.  Then  the  entire  grove  seemed  veiling  itself 
in  a  drifting  film  of  blue,  the  whole  charging  circle  to 
crown  itself  with  a  dun  cloud  of  dust  that  swept  east- 
ward over  the  prairie,  driven  by  the  stiff,  unhampered 
breeze.  The  welkin  rang  with  savage  yell,  with  answer- 
ing cheer,  with  the  sputter  and  crackle  of  rifle  and  re- 
volver, the  loud  bellow  of  Springfield,  and  then,  still  yelp- 
ing, the  feathered  riders  veered  and  circled,  ever  at  mag- 
nificent speed,  each  man  for  himself,  apparently,  yet  all 
guided  and  controlled  by  some  unseen,  yet  acknowledged, 
power ;  and,  in  five  minutes,  save  where  some  hapless  pony 
lay  quivering  and  kicking  on  the  turf,  the  low  ground 
close  at  hand  was  swept  clean  of  horse  or  man.  The  wild 
attack  had  been  made  in  vain.  The  Sioux  were  scampering 
back,  convinced,  but  not  discomfited.  Some  few  of  their 
number,  borne  away  stunned  and  bleeding  by  comrade 
hands  from  underneath  their  stricken  chargers, — some 
three  or  four,  perhaps,  who  had  dared  too  much, — were 
now  closing  their  eyes  on  the  last  fight  of  their  savage 
lives. 

To  Ray  and  to  many  of  his  men  it  was  all  an  old  story. 
Stabber  would  never  have  counselled  or  permitted  attack 
on  seasoned  troopers,  fighting  behind  even  improvised 
shelter.  Something,  perhaps,  had  occurred  to  blind  his 
younger  rival  to  the  peril  of  such  assault,  and  now,  as 
three  or  four  little  parties  were  seen  slowly  drifting  away 
toward  the  ridge,  burdened  by  some  helpless  form,  other 


142  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

couriers  came  thundering  down  at  Red  Fox,  and  wild  ex- 
citement.  prevailed  among  the  Elk  Teeth.  More  signals 
were  flashing.  More  Indians  came  popping  into  view, 
their  feathered  bonnets  streaming  in  the  rising  wind,  and 
about  the  prairie  wave,  where  the  savage  general  had 
established  field  headquarters,  a  furious  conference  was 
going  on.  Stabber  had  again  interposed,  and  with  grim 
but  hopeful  eyes,  Ray  and  his  fellows  watched  and  noted. 
Every  lull  in  the  fight  was  so  much  gain  for  them. 

"  Twelve  fifty-two,"  said  the  dark-eyed  commander, 
swinging  his  watch  into  the  pocket  of  his  hunting  shirt, 
and  sliding  backward  into  the  stream  bed.  "  All  serene 
so  far.  Watch  things  on  this  front,  Field,  while  I  make 
the  rounds  and  see  how  we  came  out." 

"  All  serene  so  far  "  it  was !  Not  a  man  hurt.  Two  of 
the  sorrels  had  been  hit  by  flying  bullets  and  much  amazed 
and  stung  thereat,  but  neither  was  crippled.  Bidding 
their  guards  to  dig  for  water  that  might  soon  be  needed, 
Ray  once  more  made  his  way  to  the  northward  side  and 
rejoined  Field  and  Winsor. 

In  an  almost  cloudless  sky  of  steely  blue  the  sun  had 
just  passed  the  meridian  and  was  streaming  hotly  down 
on  the  stirring  picture.  Northward  the  ridge  line  and  the 
long,  gradual  slope  seemed  alive  with  swarms  of  Indian 
warriors,  many  of  them  darting  about  in  wild  commotion. 
About  the  little  eminence  where  Stabber  and  the  Fox  had 
again  locked  horns  in  violent  altercation,  as  many  as  a  hun- 
dred braves  had  gathered.  About  the  middle  knob,  from 
whose  summit  mirror  flashes  shot  from  time  to  time,  was 


/    THE  ORDEAL  BY  FIRE  143 

still  another  concourse,  listening-,  apparently,  to  the  ad- 
monitions of  a  leader  but  recently  arrived,  a  chieftain 
mounted  on  an  American  horse,  almost  black,  and  Ray 
studied  the  pair  long  and  curiously  through  his  glasses. 
**  Lame  Wolf,  probably,"  said  he,  but  the  distance  was  too 
great  to  enable  him  to  be  certain.  What  puzzled  him 
more  than  anything  was  the  apparent  division  of  au- 
thority, the  unusual  display  of  discord  among  the  Sioux. 
These  were  all,  doubtless,  of  the  Ogalalla  tribe,  Red 
Cloud's  own  people,  yet  here  were  they  wrangling  like 
ward  "  heelers  "  and  wasting  precious  time.  Whatever 
his  antecedents  this  new  comer  had  been  a  powerful  sower 
of  strife  and  sedition,  for,  instead  of  following  implicitly 
the  counsels  of  one  leader,  the  Indians  were  divided  now 
between  three. 

True  to  its  practice,  the  prairie  wind  was  sweeping 
stronger  and  stronger  with  every  moment,  as  the  sun- 
warmed  strata  over  the  wide,  billowing  surface  sought 
higher  levels,  and  the  denser,  cooler  current  from  the  west 
came  rushing  down.  And  now  all  sounds  of  the  debate 
were  whisked  away  toward  the  breaks  of  the  South  Shy- 
enne,*  and  it  was  no  longer  possible  for  old  Sioux 
campaigners  to  catch  a  word  of  the  discussion.  The 
leaves  of  the  cottonwoods  whistled  in  the  rising  gale,  and 
every  time  a  pony  crossed  the  stream  bed  and  clambered 
the  steep  banks  out  to  the  west,  little  clouds  of  dun-colored 
dust  came  sailing  toward  the  grove,  scattered  and  spent, 
however,  far  from  the  lair  of  the  defence. 

*  Oddly  enougU  that  method  of  spelling  the  river's  name  be- 
came official. 


144  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

But,  while  the  discussion  seemed  endless  among  the 
Indians  on  the  northward  side,  never  for  a  moment  was 
the  vigilance  of  the  circle  relaxed.  South,  east  and  west 
the  slopes  and  lowlands  were  dotted  with  restless  horse- 
men, and  from  young  Clayton  came  the  word  that 
through  his  glass  he  could  make  out  three  or  four  war- 
riors far  away  toward  the  Moccasin  Ridge.  ''  That's 
good,"  said  Ray.  "  It  means  they,  too,  are  looking  for 
a  column  coming  out  from  Frayne.  But  where  on  earth 
did  all  these  rascals  come  from?  There  must  be  four 
hundred  now  in  sight." 

Well  might  he  ask  and  marvel !  Stabber's  little  village 
had  never  more  than  fifty  warriors.  Lame  Wolf's  band 
was  counted  at  less  than  two  hundred  and  forty  fighting 
men,  and  these,  so  said  the  agents  of  the  omniscient 
Bureau,  were  all  the  Ogalallas  away  from  the  shelter  of 
the  reservation  when  the  trouble  started.  No  more 
should  be  allowed  to  go,  was  the  confident  promise,  yet  a 
fortnight  nearly  had  elapsed  since  the  frontier  fun  began. 
News  of  battle  sweeps  with  marvellous  speed  through 
Indian  haunted  lands,  and  here  were  warriors  by  the  score, 
come  to  strengthen  the  hands  of  kindred  in  the  field,  and, 
more  were  coming.  The  mirror  signals  plainly  told  them 
that.  Yet  it  was  now  well  nigh  one  o'clock  and  not  an- 
other hostile  move  was  made.  Fox  then  was  being  held 
by  stronger  hands.  It  meant  that  Lame  Wolf  had  listened 
to  reason, — and  Stabber,  and  would  permit  no  fresh  at- 
tack until  his  numbers  should  be  so  increased  that  resis- 
tance would  practically  be  vain.     It  meant  even  more— 


THE  ORDEAL  BY  FIRE  145 

that  the  Indian  leader  in  chief  command  felt  sure  no  force 
was  yet  within  helping  distance  of  the  corralled  troopers. 
He  could,  therefore,  take  his  time. 

But  this  was  a  theory  Ray  would  not  whisper  to  his  men. 
He  knew  Webb.  He  knew  Webb  would  soon  read  the 
signs  from  the  north  and  be  coming  to  his  relief,  and  Ray 
was  right.  Even  as  he  reasoned  there  came  a  message 
from  across  the  grove.  Lieutenant  Clayton  said  the  In- 
dians he  had  seen  away  to  the  south  were  racing  back. 
"  Thank  God !  "  was  the  murmured  answer  no  man  heard. 
"  Now,  lads,  be  ready ! "  was  the  ringing  word  that 
roused  the  little  troop,  like  bugle  call  "  To  Arms."  And 
even  as  eager  faces  lifted  over  the  low  parapets  to  scan  the 
distant  foe,  fresh  signals  came  flashing  down  from  the 
northward  ridge,  fresh  bands  of  warriors  came  darting  to 
join  the  martial  throng  about  the  still  wrangling  chief- 
tains, and  then,  all  on  a  sudden,  with  mighty  yelling  and 
shrill  commotion,  that  savage  council  burst  asunder,  and, 
riding  at  speed,  a  dozen  braves  went  lashing  away  to  the 
westward  side,  while  with  fierce  brandishing  of  arms  and 
shields  and  much  curveting  and  prancing  of  excited 
ponies,  the  wild  battle  lines  were  formed  again.  The  Sioux 
were  coming  for  the  second  trial. 

"  Meet  them  as  before !  Make  every  shot  tell !  "  were 
the  orders  passed  from  man  to  man  and  heard  and  noted 
amidst  the  whistling  of  the  wind  and  the  sounds  of  scurry 
and  commotion  at  the  front.  Then,  silent  and  crouching 
low,  the  soldiers  shoved  the  brown  barrels  of  their  car- 
bines forth  again  and  waited.    And  then  the  grim  silence 


146  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

of  the  little  fortress  was  broken,  as,  with  startling,  sudden 
force  there  went  up  a  shout  from  the  westward  side : — 
"  My  God,  boys,  they're  setting  fire  to  the  prairie ! " 
Ray  sprang  to  his  feet  and  gazed.  Away  out  to  the 
west  and  southwest,  whence  came  the  strong  breeze  blow- 
ing from  the  Sweetwater  Hills,  half  a  dozen  dark,  agile 
forms,  bending  low,  were  scudding  afoot  over  the  sward, 
and  everywhere  they  moved  there  sprang  up  in  their  tracks 
little  sheets  of  lambent  flame,  little  clouds  of  bluish,  blind- 
ing smoke,  and  almost  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it, 
a  low  wall  of  fire,  started  in  a  dozen  places,  reaching  far 
across  the  low  ground,  fencing  the  valley  from  stream 
bed  to  the  southward  slopes,  crowned  by  its  swift-sailing 
crest  of  hot,  stifling  fume,  came  lapping  and  seething  and 
sweeping  across  the  level,  licking  up  the  dry  buffalo  grass 
like  so  much  tow,  mounting  higher  and  fiercer  with  every 
second,  and  bearing  down  upon  the  little  grove  and  its 
almost  helpless  defenders  in  fearful  force,  in  resistless 
fury — a  charge  no  bullet  could  stop,  an  enemy  no  human 
valor  could  hope  to  daunt  or  down. 

'*  Quick,  men !  "  yelled  Ray.  "  Out  with  you,  you  on 
the  west  front !  Stay  you  here,  you  others  I  Watch  the 
Sioux !  They'll  be  on  us  in  an  instant !  "  And  away  he 
sped  from  the  shelter  of  the  bank,  out  from  the  thick  of 
the  cotton  woods,  out  to  the  open  prairie,  straight  toward 
the  coming  torrent  of  flame  still,  thank  God,  full  seven 
hundred  yards  away,  but  leaping  toward  them  with  awful 
strides.  Out  with  him  rushed  Field,  and  out  from  Clay- 
ton's front  sped  half  a  dozen  old  hands,  every  man  fum- 


THE  ORDEAL  BY  FIRE  147 

bling  for  his  match  box ;  out  until  they  had  reached  a  line 
with  their  captain,  already  sprawled  upon  the  turf,  and 
there,  full  an  hundred  yards  from  the  grove,  they  spread 
in  rude  skirmish  line  and,  reckless  of  the  mad  chorus  of 
yells  that  came  sweeping  down  the  wind,  reckless  of  the 
clamor  of  the  coming  charge,  reckless  of  the  whistling 
lead  that  almost  instantly  began  nipping  and  biting  the 
turf  about  them,  here,  there  and  everywhere,  they,  too, 
had  started  little  fires ;  they,  too  had  run  their  line  of  flame 
across  the  windward  front ;  they,  too,  had  launched  a  wall 
of  flame  sailing  toward  the  grove,  and  then,  back  through 
blinding  smoke  they  ran  for  their  saddle  blankets,  just  as 
the  sharp  sputter  of  shots  burst  forth  on  the  northward 
side,  and  the  Sioux,  with  magnificent  dash,  came  thunder- 
ing within  range. 

Then  followed  a  thrilling  battle  for  life — two  red  ene- 
mies now  enrolled  against  the  blue.  **  Fight  fire  with 
fire  "  is  the  old  rule  of  the  prairie.  Ray  had  promptly  met 
the  on-coming  sweep  of  the  torrent  by  starting  a  smaller 
blaze  that  should  at  least  clear  the  surface  close  at  hand, 
and,  by  eating  off  the  fuel,  stop,  possibly,  the  progress  of 
the  greater  flame. 

But  the  minor  blaze  had  also  to  be  stopped  lest  it  come 
snapping  and  devouring  within  the  grove.  It  is  no  easy 
matter  to  check  a  prairie  fire  against  a  prairie  gale  when 
every  human  aid  is  summoned.  It  is  desperate  work  to 
try  to  check  one  when  to  the  fires  of  nature  are  added  the 
furious  blaze  of  hostile  arms,  every  rifle  sighted  by  savage, 
vengeful  foe.    *'  Check  it,  lads,  ten  yards  out  I "  shouted 


148  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

Ray,  to  his  gallant  fellows,  now  lost  in  the  smoke,  while 
he  again  rushed  across  the  front  to  meet  the  charging 
Sioux.  With  his  brave  young  face  all  grime,  Field  was 
already  at  work,  guiding,  urging,  aiding  his  little  band. 
"  Both  hands !  Both  hands  !  "  he  cried,  as,  wielding  his 
folded  blanket,  he  smote  the  fringe  of  flame.  "  Stamp  it 
out  I     Great  God  !  Wing,  are  you  hit  ?  " 

For  answer  the  sergeant  by  his  side  went  plunging 
down,  face  foremost,  and  little  Trooper  Denny,  rushing 
to  aid  his  young  officer  in  the  effort  to  raise  the  stricken 
man,  as  suddenly  loosed  his  hold  and,  together  again, 
these  two  sworn  comrades  of  many  a  campaign  lay  side  by 
side,  as  they  had  lain  in  camp  and  bivouac  all  over  the  wide 
frontier,  and  poor  Denny  could  only  gasp  a  loyal  word  of 
warning  to  his  officer.  "Get  back,  sir;  for  God's  sake, 
get  back !  "  ere  the  life  blood  came  gushing  from  his 
mouth.  Bending  low.  Field  grabbed  the  faithful  fellow 
in  his  strong  arms  and,  calling  to  the  nearmost  men  to  look 
to  Wing,  bore  his  helpless  burden  back  through  stifling 
smoke  clouds ;  laid  him  on  the  turf  at  the  foot  of  a  cotton- 
wood,  then  ran  again  to  the  perilous  work  of  fighting  the 
flame,  stumbling  midway  over  another  prostrate  form. 
"  Both  hands !  Both  hands !  "  he  yelled  as  again  his 
blanket  whirled  in  air ;  and  so,  by  dint  of  desperate  work, 
the  inner  line  of  flame  at  last  was  stayed,  but  every  man 
of  the  gallant  little  squad  of  fire  fighters  had  paid  the 
penalty  of  his  devotion  and  felt  the  sting  of  hissing  lead 
— Field  the  last  of  all.  Westward  now,  well  nigh  an 
hundred  yards  in  width,  a  broad,  black,  smoking  patch 


THE  ORDEAL  BY  FIRE  149 

stretched  across  the  pathway  of  the  swift-coming  wall  of 
smoke  and  flame,  a  safeguard  to  the  beleaguered  com- 
mand worth  all  the  soldier  sacrifice  it  cost.  In  grand  and 
furious  sweep,  the  scourge  of  the  prairie  sent  its  destroy- 
ing line  across  the  wide  level  to  the  south  of  the  sheltering 
grove,  but  in  the  blood  and  sweat  of  heroic  men  the 
threatening  flames  of  the  windward  side  had  sputtered 
out.  The  little  garrison  was  safe  from  one,  at  least,  of  its 
dread  and  merciless  foes,  though  five  of  its  best  and 
bravest  lay  dead  or  dying,  and  others  still  sore  stricken, 
in  the  midst  of  the  smoking  grove. 

"  Field,  old  boy,"  said  Ray,  with  brimming  eyes,  as  he 
knelt  and  clasped  the  hand  of  the  bleeding  lad,  while  the 
Sioux  fell  back  in  wrath  and  dismay  from  the  low-aimed, 
vengeful  fire  of  the  fighting  line.  "  This  means  the  Medal 
of  Honor  for  you,  if  word  of  mine  can  fetch  it !  " 


CHAPTER  XIII 

WOUNDED BODY  AND  SOUL 

TO  say  the  Sioux  were  furious  at  the  failure  of  their 
second  attempt  would  be  putting  it  far  too  mildly. 
The  fierce  charge  from  the  northward  side,  made 
under  cover  of  the  blinding  smoke  sent  drifting  by  the  gale 
across  the  level  flats,  had  been  pushed  so  close  to  the 
grove  that  two  red  braves  and  half  a  dozen  ponies  had 
met  their  death  within  sixty  paces  of  the  rifle  pits.  There 
lay  the  bodies  now,  and  the  Indians  dare  not  attempt  to 
reach  them.  The  dread,  wind-driven  flame  of  the  prairie 
fire,  planned  by  the  Sioux  to  burn  out  the  defence,  to 
serve  as  their  ally,  had  been  turned  to  their  grave  detri- 
ment. 

Ray  and  his  devoted  men  had  stopped  the  sweep  of 
so  much  of  the  conflagration  as  threatened  their  little 
stronghold,  but,  ranging  unhampered  elsewhere,  the  seeth- 
ing wall  rolled  on  toward  the  east,  spreading  gradually 
toward  its  flanks,  and  so,  not  only  consuming  vast  acres 
of  bunch  grass,  but  checking  the  attack  that  should  have 
been  made  from  the  entire  southern  half  of  the  Indian 
circle.     Later,  leaping  the  sandy  stream  bed  a  little  to 

the  west  of  the  cottonwoods,  it  spread  in  wild  career  over 

150 


WOUNDED— BODY  AND  SOUL  151 

a  huge  tract  along  the  left  bank,  and  now,  reuniting  with 
the  southern  wing  some  distance  down  the  valley,  was 
roaring  away  to  the  bluffs  of  the  Mini  Pusa,  leaving 
death  and  desolation  in  its  track.  Miles  to  the  east  the 
war  parties  from  the  reservation,  riding  to  join  Lame 
Wolf,  sighted  the  black  curtain  of  smoke,  swift  sailing 
over  the  prairie,  and  changed  their  course  accordingly. 
Not  so  many  miles  away  to  the  south  Webb's  skirmishers, 
driving  before  them  three  or  four  Sioux  scouts  from  the 
northward  slope  of  the  Moccasin  Ridge,  set  spurs  to  their 
horses  and  took  the  gallop,  the  main  body  following  on. 

With  their  eyelids  blistered  by  heat  and  smoke,  Ray's 
silent,  determined  little  band  could  see  nothing  of  the 
coming  force,  yet  knew  relief  was  nigh ;  for,  close  at  hand, 
both  east  and  west,  large  bodies  of  the  enemy  could  be 
seen  swift  riding  away  to  the  north. 

They  had  hoped,  as  "  Fox  "  had  planned  and  promised, 
to  burn  out  and  overwhelm  the  little  troop  at  the  grove 
before  the  column  from  Frayne  could  possibly  reach  the 
spot.  They  had  even  anticipated  the  probable  effort  of 
the  command  to  check  the  flames,  and  had  told  off  some 
fifty  braves  to  open  concentric  fire  on  any  party  that 
should  rush  into  the  open  with  that  object  in  view.  They 
had  thought  to  send  in  such  a  storm  of  lead,  even  from 
long  range,  that  it  should  daunt  and  drive  back  those 
who  had  dared  the  attempt.  They  had  stormed  indeed, 
but  could  neither  daunt  nor  drive,  back.  Ray's  men  had 
braved  death  itself  in  the  desperate  essay,  and,  even  in 
dying,  had  won  the  day. 


152  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

But  their  losses  had  been  cruel.  Three  killed  outright ; 
three  dying  and  eight  more  or  less  severely  wounded  had 
reduced  their  fighting  strength  to  nearly  thirty.  The 
guards  of  the  sorrels,  herded  in  the  stream  bed,  had  all 
they  could  do  to  control  the  poor,  frightened  creatures, 
many  of  them  hit,  several  of  them  felled,  by  the  plunging 
fire  from  the  far  hillsides.  Even  though  driven  back,  the 
Sioux  never  meant  to  give  up  the  battle.  On  every  side, 
leaving  their  ponies  at  safe  distance,  by  dozens  the  war- 
riors crawled  forward,  snakelike,  to  the  edge  of  the 
burned  and  blackened  surface,  and  from  there  poured  in 
a  rapid  and  most  harassing  fire,  compelling  the  defence  to 
lie  flat  or  burrow  further,  and  wounding  many  horses. 
The  half  hour  that  followed  the  repulse  of  their  grand 
assault  had  been  sorely  trying  to  the  troop,  for  the 
wounded  needed  aid,  more  men  were  hit,  and  there  was 
no  chance  whatever  to  hit  back.  Moving  from  point  to 
point,  Ray  carried  cheer  and  courage  on  every  side,  yet 
was  so  constantly  exposed  as  to  cause  his  men  fresh 
anxiety.  Even  as  he  was  bending  over  Field  a  bullet 
had  nipped  the  right  shoulderstrap,  and  later  another  had 
torn  through  the  crown  of  his  campaign  hat.  In  all  the 
years  of  their  frontier  fighting  they  had  never  known  a 
hotter  fire;  but  Ray's  voice  rang  out  through  the  drift- 
ing vapor  with  the  same  old  cheer  and  confidence.  "  They 
can't  charge  again  till  the  ground  cools  off,"  he  cried. 
"  By  that  time  they'll  have  their  hands  full.  See  how 
they're  scudding  away  at  the  southward  even  now.  Just 
keep  covered  and  you're  all  right,"    And,  barring  a  growl 


WOUNDED— BODY  AND  SOUL  153 

or  two  from  favored  old  hands  who  sought  to  malce  the 
captain  take  his  own  medicine  and  himself  keep  covered, 
the  answer  was  full  of  cheer. 

And  so  they  waited  through  the  hot  smoke  and  sun- 
shine of  the  autumn  afternoon,  and,  even  while  comfort- 
ing the  wounded  with  assurance  of  coming  relief,  kept 
vigilant  watch  on  every  hostile  move,  and  at  last,  toward 
three  o'clock,  the  sharp  fire  about  them  slackened  away, 
the  smouldering  roots  of  the  bunch  grass  had  burned 
themselves  out.  The  smoke  drifted  away  from  the 
prairie,  and,  as  the  landscape  cleared  to  the  south  and 
west,  a  cheer  of  delight  went  up  from  the  cottonwoods, 
for  the  slopes  three  miles  away  were  dotted  here  and 
there  and  everywhere  with  circling,  scurrying  war  ponies 
— they  and  their  wild  riders  steadily  falling  back  before 
a  long  rank  of  disciplined  horsemen,  the  extended  skirmish 
line  of  Webb's  squadron,  backed  by  supports  at  regular 
intervals,  and  all  heading  straight  on  for  the  broad  low- 
lands of  the  Elk. 

"  Send  six  of  your  men  over  to  the  south  front,  ser- 
geant," were  Ray's  orders  to  Winsor,  as  he  hurried  over 
to  join  Clayton  again.  '*  They  may  try  one  final  charge 
from  that  side,  and  give  us  a  chance  to  empty  a  few  more 
saddles."  Creeping  and  crouching  through  the  timber  the 
chosen  men  obeyed,  and  were  assigned  to  stations  under 
Clayton's  eye.  The  precaution  was  wise  indeed,  for,  just 
as  the  captain  foresaw,  a  rally  in  force  began  far  out 
over  the  southward  slopes,  the  Indians  gathering  in  great 
numbers  about  some  chieftain  midway  between  the  com- 


154  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

ing  force  and  the  still  beleaguered  defenders  of  the  grove. 
Then,  brandishing  lance  and  shield  and  rifle,  as  before, 
they  began  spreading  out  across  the  prairie,  heading  now 
for  the  cottonwoods,  while  others  still  faced  and  fired  on 
the  far  blue  skirmish  line.  The  fierce  wind,  sweeping 
across  the  direction  of  the  attack,  deadened  all  sound  of 
hoof  or  war  chant,  but  there  was  no  mistaking  the  signs, 
no  doubt  of  the  intent,  when,  in  a  little  moment  more,  the 
earth  began  to  tremble  beneath  the  dancing  pony  feet, 
telling,  almost  with  the  swiftness  of  sight,  that  the  grand 
advance  had  again  begun.  But  other  eyes  were  watch- 
ing, too.  Other  soldiers,  keen  campaigners  as  these  at 
the  Elk,  were  there  afield,  and  almost  at  the  moment  the 
wild  barbaric  horde  burst  yelling  into  their  eager  gallop; 
and  before  the  dust  cloud  hid  the  distant  slopes  beyond, 
the  exultant  shout  went  up  from  the  captain's  lips,  as 
he  threw  down  his  glass  and  grabbed  his  carbine.  "  It's 
all  right,  men!  The  major's  coming  at  their  heels.  Now 
let  'em  have  it !  " 

In  former  days  there  had  been  scenes  of  wild  rejoic- 
ing, sometimes  of  deep  emotion,  when  relief  came  to 
some  Indian-besieged  detachment  of  the  old  regiment. 
Once,  far  to  the  south  in  the  wild,  romantic  park  country 
of  Colorado,  a  strong  detachment  had  been  corralled  for 
days  by  an  overwhelming  force  of  Utes.  Their  com- 
mander,— a  dozen  of  their  best  men, — all  the  horses  killed 
and  many  troopers  sorely  wounded.  They  had  been 
rescued  at  last  by  their  skilled  and  gallant  colonel,  after 
a, long  and  most  scientific  march  by  both  night  and  day. 


WOUNDED— BODY  AND  SOUL  15  5 

Another  time,  still  farther  in  their  past,  and  yet  within 
a  dozen  years,  away  down  the  broad  valley  of  the  very 
stream  of  which  this  little  Elk  was  a  tributary,  the  Chey- 
ennes  had  hemmed  in  and  sorely  hammered  two  depleted 
troops  that  owed  their  ultimate  rescue  to  the  daring  of 
the  very  officer  who  so  coolly,  confidently  headed  the 
defence  this  day — to  a  night  ride  through  the  Indian  lines 
that  nearly  cost  him  his  brave  young  life,  but  that  brought 
Captain  Truscott  with  a  fresh  and  powerful  troop  sweep- 
ing in  to  their  succor  with  the  dawn.  Then  there  had 
been  men  who  strained  other  men  to  their  hearts  and  who 
shed  tears  like  women,  for  gallant  comrades  had  bitten 
the  dust  in  the  desperate  fighting  of  the  day  before,  and 
hope  itself  had  almost  gone^ — with  the  ammunition  of  the 
beleaguered  command. 

Now,  with  heavier  losses  than  had  befallen  Wayne  in 
'76,  Ray's  command  beheld  with  almost  tranquil  hearts 
the  coming  of  the  fierce  array  in  final  charge.  Behind 
them,  not  two  miles,  to  be  sure,  rode  in  swift,  well- 
ordered  pursuit  the  long  line  of  comrade  troopers.  But 
there  had  been  intervening  years  of  campaign  experi- 
ences that  dulled  to  a  degree  the  earlier  enthusiasms  of 
the  soldier,  and  taught  at  least  the  assumption  of  pro- 
fessional composure  that  was  the  secret  wonder  of  the 
suckling  trooper,  and  that  became  his  chief  ambition  to 
acquire.  It  is  one  thing  to  charge  home  at  a  hard-fightiiig 
command  when  friends  and  comrades  back  the  effort  and 
cheer  the  charging  line.  It  is  another  to  charge  home 
conscious  that  other  chargers  are  coming  at  one's  heels. 


t 


156  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOCTX 

Magnificent  as  a  spectacle,  therefore,  this  closing  dash  of 
Lame  Wolf's  warriors  was  but  a  meek  reminder  of  their 
earlier  attack.  Long  before  they  came  within  four  hun- 
dred yards  of  the  leafy  stronghold, — ^the  moment,  indeed, 
the  brown  Springfields  began  their  spiteful  bark, — to 
right  and  left  the  warriors  veered,  far  out  on  either  flank. 
Screeching  and  yelling  as  was  their  savage  way,  they 
tore  madly  by,  flattened  out  against  their  ponies*  necks 
and,  those  who  could  use  their  arms  at  all,  pumping  wild 
shots  that  whistled  harmless  over  the  heads  of  the  de- 
fenders and  bit  the  blackened  prairie  many  a  rod  beyond. 
Only  jeers  rewarded  the  stirring  spectacle, — jeers  and  a 
few  low-aimed,  sputtering  volleys  that  brought  other 
luckless  ponies  to  their  knees  and  sprawled  a  few  red 
riders.  But  in  less  than  five  minutes  from  the  warning 
cry  that  hailed  their  coming,  Lame  Wolf  and  his  hosts 
were  lining  Elk  Tooth  ridge  and  watching  with  burning 
hate  and  vengeful  eyes  the  swift,  steady  advance  of 
Webb's  long  blue  fighting  line,  and  the  utter  unconcern 
of  the  defence.  Even  before  the  relieving  squadron  was 
within  carbine  range  certain  of  Ray's  men  had  scrambled 
out  upon  the  northward  bank  and,  pushing  forward  upon 
the  prairie,  were  possessing  themselves  of  the  arms  and 
ornaments  of  the  two  dead  warriors  whom  the  Sioux 
had  strived  in  vain  to  reach  and  beaf  within  their  lines. 
Ray  and  Clayton  at  the  moment  were  strolling  placidly 
forth  upon  the  southward  "  bench  "  to  receive  and  wel- 
come the  little  knot  of  comrades  sent  galloping  in  ad- 
vance to  greet  theirit    There  was  perhaps  just  a  suspicion 


WOUNDED— BODY  AND  SOUL  157 

of  exaggerated  nonchalance  about  their  gait  and  bearing 
— a  regimental  weakness,  possibly — and  no  other  officer 
save  Lieutenant  Field  happened  to  be  within  earshot  when 
Winsor's  voice  on  the  -other  front  was  heard  in  hoarse 
command : 

"  Come  back  there,  you  fellows !  Back  or  you're 
goners ! " 

The  sight  had  proved  too  much  for  some  of  the  Sioux. 
Down  again  at  furious  speed  came  a  scattered  cloud  of 
young  braves,  following  the  lead  of  the  tall,  magnificent 
chief  who  had  been  the  hero  of  the  earlier  attack, — down 
into  the  low  ground,  never  swerving  or  checking  pace, 
straight  for  the  grove,  the  three  or  four  inquisitive  blue- 
coats  in  the  meantime  scurrying  for  shelter;  and  the  yell 
that  went  up  at  sight  of  the  Indian  dash  and  the  quick 
reopening  of  the  sputtering  fire  brought  Ray,  running 
once  again  to  the  northward  edge  of  the  timber,  wonder- 
ing what  could  be  amiss.  Field  was  lying  on  his  blanket, 
just  under  the  bank,  as  the  captain  darted  by,  and  grinned 
his  gratification  as  he  heard  the  brief,  assuring  words: 
**  Webb's  here— all  hands  with  him."  An  instant  later  a 
bullet  whizzed  through  the  roots  of  the  old  cottonwood 
above  his  head,  and  from  far  out  afield,  deadened  by  the 
rush  of  the  wind,  a  dull  crackle  of  shots  told  that  some- 
thing had  recalled  the  Sioux  to  the  attack,  and  for  three 
minutes  there  was  a  lively  fusillade  all  along  the  north- 
ward side.  Then  it  slowly  died  away,  and  other  voices, 
close  at  hand, — someone  speaking  his  name, — called  the 
lad's  attention.    He  was  weak  from  loss  of  blood,  and 


158  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

just  a  little  dazed  and  flighty.  He  had  meant  three  hours 
agone  that  when  next  he  encountered  his  post  commander 
his  manner  should  plainly  show  that  senior  that  even  a 
second  lieutenant  had  rights  a  major  was  bound  to  re- 
spect. But,  only  mistily  now,  he  saw  bending  over  him 
the  keen,  soldierly  features, — the  kind,  winsome  gra) 
eyes,  filled  with  such  a  world  of  concern  and  sympathy, 
— and  heard  the  deep,  earnest  tones  of  the  voice  he  knew 
so  well,  calling  again  his  name  and  mingling  cordial  praise 
and  anxious  inquiry,  and  all  the  rancor  seemed  to  float 
away  with  the  smoke  of  the  last  carbine  shots.  He  could 
only  faintly  return  the  pressure  of  that  firm,  muscular 
hand,  only  feebly  smile  his  thanks  and  reassurance,  and 
then  he,  too,  seemed  floating  away  somewhere  into  space, 
and  he  could  not  manage  to  connect  what  Webb  had  been 
saying  with  the  next  words  that  fastened  on  his  truant 
senses.  It  must  have  been  hours  later,  too,  for  dark- 
ness had  settled  on  the  valley.  A  little  fire  was  burning 
under  the  shelter  of  the  bank.  A  little  group  of  soldiers 
were  chatting  in  low  tone,  close  at  hand.  Among  them, 
his  arm  in  a  sling,  stood  a  stocky  little  chap  whose  face, 
seen  in  the  flickering  light,  was  familiar  to  him.  So  v/as 
the  eager  brogue  in  which  that  little  chap  was  speaking. 
A  steward  was  reiuonstrating,  and  only  vaguely  at  firit. 
Field  grasped  the  meaning  of  his  words: — 

"  The  captain  said  you  were  not  to  try  to  follow,  Ken- 
nedy, at  least  not  until  Dr.  Waller  saw  you.  Wait  till 
he  gets  here.    He  can't  be  three  miles  back  now." 

"  To  hell  wid  ye !  "  was  the  vehement  answer.    "  D'ye 


WOUNDED— BODY  AND  SOUL  i59 

think  I'd  be  maundherin'  here  wid  the  whole  command 
gone  on  afther  thim  bloody  Sioux.  I've  made  my  mark 
on  wan  o'  thim,  an'  he's  the  buck  I'm  afther." 

*'  He's  made  his  mark  on  you,  Kennedy,"  broke  in  a 
soldier  voice.  "  You  mad  fool,  trying  to  tackle  a  chief 
like  that — even  if  he  was  hit,  for  he  had  his  whole  gang 
behind  him." 

"  Sure  he  dared  me  out,  an' — what's  this  he  called  me  ? 
a  d d  whiskey  thafe ! — me  that  niver " 

"  Oh,  shut  up,  Kennedy,"  laughed  a  brother  Irishman. 
"  You  were  full  as  a    goat    at  '  K '  Troop's    stables — 

Where'd  ye  get  the  whiskey  if " 

'  "  I'll  lay  you,  Lanigan,  when  I  get  two  hands  agin, 
though  I  misdoubt  wan  would  do  it.  It's  me  horse  I 
want  now  and  lave  to  go  on  wid  the  capt'n.  Ready  now, 
sir,"  he  added,  with  sudden  change  of  tone  and  manner, 
for  a  tall,  slender  form  came  striding  into  the  fire  light, 
and  Field  knew  Blake  at  the  instant,  and  would  have 
called  but  for  the  first  word  from  the  captain's  lips. 

"  Your  heart's  safe,  Kennedy.  I  wish  your  head  was. 
Your  past  master  in  blasphemy  out  there  won't  eat  it,  at 
all  events." 

**  Did  ye  get  him,  sorr, — afther  all  ?  " 

"I  didn't.  His  English  spoiled  my  aim.  'Twas  Win- 
sor  shot  him.  Now,  you're  to  stay  here,  you  and  Kil- 
maine.  The  doctor  may  bring  despatches,  and  you  fol- 
low us  with  the  first  to  come."  An  orderly  had  led  forth 
a  saddled  horse,  and  Blake's  foot  was  already  in  the 
stirrup.    "  They  say  it  was  Red  Fox  himself,  Kennedy," 


i6o  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

he  added.  "  Where  on  earth  did  you  meet  him  be- 
fore?" 

"  Shure,  /  niver  knew  him,  sorr,"  was  the  quick  reply, 
as  Blake's  long,  lean  leg  swung  over  the  big  charger's 
back  and  the  rider  settled  in  saddle. 

"  But  he  knew  you  perfectly  well.  He  dared  you  by 
name,  when  we  closed  on  them — you  and  Mr.  Field." 

And  when  an  hour  later  the  veteran  surgeon  came  and 
knelt  by  the  side  of  the  young  officer  reported  seriously 
wounded,  and  took  his  hand  and  felt  his  pulse,  there  was 
something  in  the  situation  that  seemed  to  call  for  im- 
mediate action.  "  We'll  get  you  back  to  Frayne  to- 
morrow. Field,"  said  Waller,  with  kind  intent.  "  Don't 
— worry  now." 

"  Don't  do  that,  doctor,"  feebly,  surprisingly  moaned 
the  fevered  lad.    "  Don't  take  me  back  to  Frayne ! " 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A    VANISHED    HEROINE 

WITHIN  forty-eight  hours  of  the  coming  of 
Trooper  Kennedy  with  his  "  rush  "  despatches 
to  Fort  Frayne,  the  actors  in  our  little  drama 
had  become  widely  separated.  Webb  and  his  sturdy 
squadron,  including  Ray  and  such  of  his  troop  as  still 
had  mounts  and  no  serious  wounds,  were  marching 
straight  on  for  the  Dry  Fork  of  the  Powder.  They  were 
two  hundred  fighting  men;  and,  although  the  Sioux  had 
now  three  times  that  many,  they  had  learned  too  much 
of  the  shooting  powers  of  these  seasoned  troopers,  and 
deemed  it  wise  to  avoid  close  contact.  The  Indian  fights 
well,  man  for  man,  when  fairly  cornered,  but  at  other 
times  he  is  no  true  sportsman.  He  asks  for  odds  of  ten 
to  one,  as  when  he  wiped  out  Custer  on  the  "  Greasy 
Grass,"  or  Fetteman  at  Fort  Phil  Kearny, — as  when  he 
tackled  the  Gray  Fox, — General  Crook — on  the  Rosebud, 
and  Sibley's  little  party  among  the  pines  of  the  Big  Horn. 
Ray's  plucky  followers  had  shot  viciously  and  emptied 
far  too  many  saddles  for  Indian  equanimity.  It  might  be 
well  in  any  event  to  let  Webb's  squadron  through  and 

Svait  for  further  accessions  from  the  agencies  at  the  south- 

i6i 


i62  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

east,  or  the  big,  turbulent  bands  of  Uncapapas  and  Minne- 
conjous  at  Standing  Rock,  or  the  Cheyennes  along  the 
Yellowstone. 

So  back  went  Lame  Wolf  and  his  braves,  bearing 
Stabber  with  them,  flitting  northward  again  toward* 
the  glorious  country  beyond  the  *'  Chakadee,"  and 
on  went  Webb,  with  Blake,  Gregg,  Ray  and  their  juniors, 
with  Tracy  to  take  care  of  such  as  might  be  wounded  on 
the  way ;  and,  later  still,  the  old  post  surgeon  reached  the 
Elk  with  guards  and  hospital  attendants,  and  on  the  mor- 
row began  his  homeward  march  with  the  dead  and 
wounded, — a  sad  and  solemn  little  proces*sion.  Only 
twenty  miles  he  had  to  go,  but  it  took  long  hours,  so  few 
were  the  ambulances,  so  rough  the  crossings  of  the  ra- 
vines; and,  not  until  near  nightfall  was  the  last  of  the 
wounded, — Lieutenant  Field, — borne  in  the  arms  of  pity- 
ing soldiers  into  the  old  post  hospital,  too  far  gone  with 
fever,  exhaustion  and  some  strong  mental  excitement  to 
know  or  care  that  his  strange  plea  had  been,  perforce, 
disregarded ; — to  know  or  care  later  that  the  general  him- 
self, the  commander  they  loved  and  trusted,  was  bending 
over  him  at  dawn  the  following  day.  Ordering  forward 
all  available  troops  from  the  line  of  the  railway,  "  the 
Chief  "  had  stopped  at  Laramie  only  long  enough  for 
brief  conference  with  the  post  commander;  then,  bidding 
him  come  on  with  all  his  cavalry,  had  pushed  ahead  for 
Frayne.  It  couldn't  be  a  long  campaign,  perhaps,  with 
winter  close  at  hand,  but  it  would  be  a  lively  one.  Of 
that  the  chief  felt  well  assured. 


A  VANISHED  HEROINE  163 

Now,  there  was  something  uncanny  about  this  out- 
break on  the  part  of  the  Sioux,  and  the  general  was 
puzzled.  Up  to  September  the  Indians  had  been  busy 
with  the  annual  hunt.  They  were  fat,  well-fed,  prosper- 
ous,— had  got  from  the  government  pretty  much  every- 
thing that  they  could  ask  with  any  show  of  reason  and, 
so  they  said,  had  been  promised  more.  The  rows  between 
the  limited  few  of  their  young  men  and  some  bullies 
among  the  "  rustlers  "  had  been  no  more  frequent  nor 
serious  than  on  previous  summers,  when  matters  had 
been  settled  without  resort  to  arms;  but  this  year  the 
very  devil  seemed  to  have  got  into  the  situation.  Some- 
thing, or  probably  somebody,  said  the  general,  had  been 
stirring  the  Indians  up,  exciting — exhorting  possibly,  and 
almost  the  first  thing  the  general  did  as  he  climbed  stiffly 
out  of  his  stout  Concord  wagon,  in  the  paling  starlight  of 
the  early  morning,  was  to  turn  to  Dade,  now  command- 
ing the  post,  and  to  say  he  should  like,  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible, to  see  Bill  Hay.  Meantime  he  wished  to  go  in  and 
look  at  the  wounded. 

It  was  not  yet  five  o'clock,  but  Dr.  Waller  was  up  and 
devoting  himself  to  the  needs  of  his  patients,  and  Dade 
had  coffee  ready  for  the  general  and  his  single  aide-de- 
camp, but  not  a  sip  would  the  general  take  until  he  had 
seen  the  stricken  troopers.  He  knew  Field  by  reputation, 
well  and  favorably.  He  had  intimately  known  Field's 
father  in  the  old  days,  in  the  old  army,  when  they  served 
together  on  the  then  wild  Pacific  shores  "  where  rolls 
the  Oregon."    The  great  civil  war  had  divided  them,  for 


1 64  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

Field  had  cast  his  soldier  fortune  with  his  seceding  State, 
but  all  that  was  a  thing  of  the  past.  Here  was  the  son, 
a  loyal  soldier  of  the  flag  the  father  had  again  sworn 
allegiance  to  when  he  took  his  seat  in  the  House  of  Rep- 
resentatives. The  general  thought  highly  of  Field,  and 
was  sore  troubled  at  his  serious  condition.  He  knew 
what  despatches  would  be  coming  from  the  far  South 
when  the  telegraph  line  began  the  busy  clicking  of  the 
morning.  He  was  troubled  to  find  the  lad  in  high  fever 
and  to  hear  that  he  had  been  out  of  his  head.  He  was 
more  than  troubled  at  the  concern,  and  something  like 
confusion,  in  the  old  doctor's  face. 

"  You  don't  think  him  dangerously  wounded,  do  you  ?  " 
he  asked. 

**  Not  dangerously,  general,"  was  the  reply.  "  It's — 
well,  he  seems  to  have  something  on  his  mind."  And 
more  than  this  the  doctor  would  not  say.  It  was  not 
for  him  to  tell  the  chief  what  Webb  had  confided  ere  he 
left  the  post — that  most  of  the  currency  for  which  Field 
was  accountable  was  so  much  waste  paper.  Field  lay 
muttering  and  tossing  in  restless  misery,  unconscious  most 
of  the  time,  and  sleeping  only  when  under  the  influence 
of  a  strong  narcotic.  Dade,  with  sadness  and  constraint 
apparent  in  his  manner,  hung  back  and  did  not  enter  the 
bare  hospital  room  where,  with  only  a  steward  in  at- 
tendance, the  young  soldier  lay.  The  doctor  had  gone 
with  the  general  to  the  bedside,  but  the  captain  remained 
out  of  earshot  at  the  door. 

First  call  for  reveille  was  just  sounding  on  the  in- 


A  VANISHED  HEROINE  165 

fantry  bugles  as  the  trio  came  forth.  "  I  have  sent  for 
Hay  already,  general,"  Dade  was  saying,  as  they  stood 
on  the  wooden  veranda  overlooking  the  valley  of  the 
murmuring  river ;  "  but  will  you  not  come  now  and  have 
coffee?     He  can  join  us  over  at  my  quarters." 

Already,  however,  the  orderly  was  hurrying  back. 
They  met  him  when  not  half  way  over  to  the  line  of 
officers'  quarters.  The  few  men  for  duty  in  the  two  com- 
panies of  infantry,  left  to  guard  the  post,  were  gathering 
in  little  groups  in  front  of  their  barracks,  awaiting  the 
sounding  of  the  assembly.  They  knew  the  chief  at  a 
glance,  and  were  curiously  watching  him  as  he  went 
thoughtfully  pacing  across  the  parade  by  the  side  of  the 
temporary  commander.  They  saw  the  orderly  coming 
almost  at  a  run  from  the  direction  of  the  guard-house, 
saw  him  halt  and  salute,  evidently  making  some  report, 
but  they  could  not  guess  what  made  him  so  suddenly 
start  and  run  at  speed  toward  the  southward  bluff,  the 
direction  of  the  trader's  corral  and  stables,  while  Captain 
Dade  whirled  about  and  signalled  Sergeant  Crabb,  of  the 
cavalry,  left  behind  in  charge  of  the  few  custodians  of 
the  troop  barracks.  Crabb,  too,  threw  dignity  to  the 
winds,  and  ran  at  the  beck  of  his  superior  officer. 

**  Have  you  two  men  who  can  ride  hard  a  dozen  miles 
or  so — and  carry  out  their  orders  ?  "  was  the  captain's 
sharp  demand. 

*'  Certainly,  sir,"  answered  Crabb,  professionally  resent- 
ful that  such  question  should  be  asked  of  men  of  the 
— ^th  Cavalry. 


1 66  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

"  Send  two  to  report  to  me  at  once,  mounted.  Never 
mind  breakfast." 

And  by  this  time,  apparently,  the  chief,  the  post  com- 
mander and  possibly  even  the  aide-de-camp  had  forgotten 
about  the  waiting  coffee.  They  still  stood  there  where 
they  had  halted  in  the  centre  of  the  parade.  The  doctor, 
coming  from  hospital,  was  signalled  to  and  speedily  joined 
them.  The  bugle  sounded,  the  men  mechanically  formed 
ranks  and  answered  to  their  names,  all  the  while  watching 
from  the  corner  of  their  eyes  the  group  of  officers,  now 
increased  by  two  infantry  subalterns.  Lieutenants  Bruce 
and  Duncan,  who  raised  their  caps  to  the  preoccupied 
general,  such  salutation  being  then  a  fashion,  not  a  regu- 
lation of  the  service,  and  stood  silently  awaiting  instruc- 
tions, for  something  of  consequence  was  surely  at  hand. 
Then  the  orderly  again  appeared,  returning  from  his  mis- 
sion, out  of  breath  and  speaking  with  difficulty. 

"  Craps — I  mean  the  Frenchman,  sir,  says  it  was  after 
four,  perhaps  half  past,  when  they  started,  Pete  drivin'. 
He  didn't  see  who  was  in  it.  *Twas  the  covered  buck- 
board  he  took,  sir — the  best  one." 

And  then,  little  by  little,  it  transpired  that  Hay,  the 
post  trader  whom  the  general  had  need  to  see,  had  taken 
his  departure  by  way  of  the  Rawlins  road,  and  without 
so  much  as  a  whisper  of  his  purpose  to  any  one. 

**  I  knew  he  had  thought  of  going.  He  told  Major 
Webb  so,"  said  Dade,  presently.  "  But  that  was  before 
thie  outbreak  assumed  proportions.  He  had  given  up  all 
idea  of  it  yesterday  and  so  told  me." 


A  VANISHED  HEROINE  167 

"  Has  anything  happened  to — start  him  since  then  ?  " 
demanded  the  bearded  general,  after  a  moment's  thought. 

Dade  and  the  doctor  looked  into  each  other's  eyes,  and 
the  latter  turned  away.    It  was  not  his  affair. 

"  W-ell,  something  has  happened,  general,"  was 
Dade's  slow,  constrained  reply.  "  If  you  will  step  this 
way — I'll  see  you  later,  gentlemen — "  this  to  his  sub- 
alterns— "  I'll  explain  as  far  as  I  can." 

And  while  Dr.  Waller  fell  back  and  walked  beside  the 
aide-de-camp,  gladly  leaving  to  the  post  commander  the 
burden  of  a  trying  explanation,  the  general,  slowly  pacing 
by  the  captain's  side,  gave  ear  to  his  story. 

**  Hay  cleaned  up  quite  a  lot  of  money,"  began  the 
veteran,  "  and  had  intended  starting  it  to  Cheyenne  when 
this  Indian  trouble  broke  out.  The  courier  reached  us 
during  the  night,  as  you  know,  and  the  major  ordered 
Ray  to  start  at  dawn  and  Field  to  go  with  him." 

"Why,  I  thought  Field  was  post  adjutant!"  inter- 
posed the  general. 

"  He  was,  but — well — I  beg  you  to  let  Major  WebS 
give  you  his  own  reasons,  general,"  faltered  Dade,  sorely 

embarrassed.    "  He  decided  that  Field  should  go " 

/  "  He  asked  to  go,  I  suppose — It  runs  in  the  blood," 
said  the  general,  quickly,  with  a  keen  look  from  his  blue- 
gray  eyes. 

"  I  think  not,  sir ;  but  you  will  see  Webb  within  a  few 
days  and  he  will  tell  you  all  about  it.  What  I  know  is 
this,  that  Field  was  ordered  to  go  and  that  he  gave  the 
major  an  order  on  Hay  for  two  packages  containing  the 


i68  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

money  for  which  he  was  accountable.  Field  and  Wilkin s 
had  had  a  falling  out,  and,  instead  of  putting  the  cash  in 
the  quartermaster's  safe,  Field  kept  it  at  Hay's.  At 
guard  mounting  Hay  brought  the  package  to  the  major, 
who  opened  both  in  presence  of  the  officers  of  the 
day.  Each  package  was  supposed  to  contain  three  or 
four  hundred  dollars.  Neither  contained  twenty.  Some 
paper  slips  inserted  between  five  dollar  bills  made  up  the 
packages.  Field  was  then  far  to  the  north  and  past  con- 
ferring with.  Hay  was  amazed  and  distressed — said  that 
some  one  must  have  duplicate  keys  of  his  safe  as  well  as 
of  his  stables.'* 

"  Why  the  stables  ?  "  asked  the  chief,  pausing  at  the 
gate  and  studying  the  troubled  face  of  the  honored  sol- 
dier he  so  well  knew  and  so  fully  trusted.  He  was 
thinking,  too,  how  this  was  not  the  first  occasion  that  the 
loss  of  public  money  had  been  hidden  for  the  time  in 
just  that  way — slips  inserted  between  good  currency. 

"  Because  it  transpires  that  some  of  his  horses  were 
out  that  very  night  without  his  consent  or  ken.  No  one 
for  a  moment,  to  my  knowledge,  has  connected  Field 
with  the  loss  of  the  money.  Hay  thought,  however,  it 
threw  suspicion  on  him,  and  was  mightily  upset." 

"  Then  his  sudden  departure  at  this  time,  without  a 
word  to  anybody  looks — odd,"  said  the  general,  thought- 
fully. "  But  he  had  no  need  of  money.  He's  one  of  the 
wealthiest  men  in  Wyoming.  And  she — his  wife, — needs 
nothing.  He  gives  her  all  she  can  possibly  want."  By 
this  time  they  were  at  the  door,     A  lamp  still  burned 


A  VANISHED  HEROINE  169 

dimly  in  the  hallway,  and  Dade  blew  it  out,  as  he  ushered 
the  general  into  the  cosily  lighted  dining-room. 

"  You'll  excuse  Mrs.  Dade  and  Esther,  I  hope,  sir. 
They  are  not  yet  up — quite  overcome  by  anxiety  and  ex- 
citement,— there's  been  a  lot  about  Frayne  the  last  two 
days. — Take  this  chair.  General.  Coffee  will  be  served 
at  once.  No,  sir,  as  you  say,  the  Hays  have  no  need  of 
money — he  and  his  wife,  that  is." 

"  But  you  suspect — whom  ?  "  asked  the  general,  the 
blue-gray  eyes  intent  on  the  troubled  face  before  him, 
for  Dade's  very  hesitancy  told  of  some  untold  theory. 
The  doctor  and  the  aide  had  taken  seats  at  the  other  end 
of  the  table  and  dutifully  engaged  in  low-toned  conversa- 
tion. 

"  That  is  a  hard  question  for  me  to  answer,  General," 
was  the  answer.  "  I  have  no  right  to  suspect  anybody. 
We  had  no  time  to  complete  the  investigation.  There  are 
many  hangers-on,  you  know,  about  Hay's  store,  and  in- 
deed, his  house.  Then  his  household,  too,  has  been  in- 
creased, as  perhaps  you  did  not  know.  Mrs.  Hay's  niece 
— a  very  brilliant  young  woman— is  visiting  them,  and  she 
and  Field  rode  frequently  together." 

The  general's  face  was  a  study.  The  keen  eyes  were 
reading  Dade  as  a  skilled  physician  would  interpret  the 
symptoms  of  a  complicated  case.  "  How  old — and  what 
is  she  like,  Dade  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  The  women  can  answer  that  better  than  I,  sir.  They 
say  she  must  be  twenty-four; — Mrs.  Hay  says  nineteen 
— She  is  very  dark  and  very  handsome — at  times.    Most 


170         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

of  our  young  men  seem  to  think  so,  at  least.  She  cer- 
tainly rides  and  dances  admirably,  and  Mr.  Field  was 
constantly  her  partner." 

The  general  began  to  see  light.  **  Field  was  constantly 
with  her,  was  he?  Riding  just  by  themselves  or  with 
others  when  they  went  out  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  By  themselves,  sir.  I  doubt  if  any  other  of  our 
equestriennes  would  care  to  ride  at  her  pace.  She  rather 
outstrips  them  all.  The  major  told  me  they  seemed  to 
go — well,  every  time  he  saw  them,  at  least, — up  to  Stab- 
ber's  village,  and  that  was  something  he  disapproved  of, 
though  I  dare  say  she  was  simply  curious  to  see  an  In- 
dian village,  as  an  Eastern  girl  might  be." 

"  Possibly,"  said  the  general.  **  And  what  did  you  tell 
me — she  is  Mrs.  Hay's  niece?  I  don't  remember  his 
having  any  niece  when  they  were  at  Laramie  in  '66, 
though  I  knew  something  of  Mrs.  Hay,  who  was  then  but 
a  short  time  married.  She  spoke  Sioux  and  patois  French 
better  than  English  in  those  days.  What  is  the  young 
lady's  name?" 

"  Miss  Flower,  sir.    Nanette  Flower." 

The  chief  dropped  his  head  on  his  hand  and  reflected. 
"  It's  a  good  twenty  years,  and  I've  been  knocking  about 
all  over  the  West  since  then,  but,  I'd  like  to  see  Mrs. 
Hay  and  that  young  woman,  Dade,  whether  we  overhaul 
Bill  or  not.    I  must  go  on  to  Beecher  at  once." 

"  You  will  wait  for  the  cavalry  from  Laramie,  will  you 
not,  sir?"  asked  the  captain,  anxiously. 

"  I  can't.    I'll  get  a  bath  and  breakfast  and  forty  winks 


A  VANISHED  HEROINE  171 

later;  then  see  Mrs.  Hay  and  Bill,  if  he  is  back.  They 
ought  to  catch  him  before  he  reaches  Sage  Creek.  There 
are  your  couriers  now,"  he  added,  at  the  sound  of  spurred 
heels  on  the  front  piazza. 

The  captain  stepped  forth  into  the  hallway.  A  trooper 
stood  at  the  front  door,  his  hand  lifted  in  salute.  An- 
other, in  saddle,  and  holding  the  reins  of  his  comrade's 
horse,  was  at  the  gate.  A  rustle  of  feminine  drapery 
swept  downward  from  the  upper  floor,  and  Dade  glanced 
up,  half  dreading  to  see  Esther's  face.  But  it  was  his 
wife  who  peered  over  the  balustrade.  *'  I  shall  be  down 
in  ten  minutes,"  she  said,  in  low  tone.  *'  Esther  is  sleep- 
ing at  last.     How  did — he — seem  this  morning  ?  " 

"  Sleeping,  too,  but  only  fitfully.  Dr.  Waller  is  here," 
and  then  Dade  would  have  ended  the  talk.  He  did  not 
wish  to  speak  further  of  Field  or  his  condition.  But 
she  called  again,  low-toned,  yet  dominant,  as  is  many 
a  wife  in  and  out  of  the  army. 

"  Surely  you  are  not  letting  the  general  start  with 
only  two  men !  " 

"  No,  he  goes  by  and  by."  And  again  Dade  would 
have  escaped  to  the  piazza,  but  once  again  she  held 
him. 

"  Then  where  are  you  sending  these  ?  " 

"After  Mr.  Hay.  He — made  an  early  start — not 
knowing  perhaps,  the  general  was  coming." 

"  Start !  "  she  cried,  all  excitement  now.  "  Start ! — 
Start  for  where  ?  "  and  the  dressing  sacque  in  aspen-like 
agitations  came  in  full  view  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 


172  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

"  Rawlins,  I  suppose.  I  don't  know  what  it 
means." 

"  But  /  do !  "  exclaimed  his  better  half,  in  emotion  un- 
controllable. *' I  do!  It  means  that  she  has  tnade  him, 
— that  she  has  gone,  too — I  mean  Nanette  Flower !  " 


CHAPTER  XV 
A   woman's   plot 

WOMAN'S  intuition  often  far  outstrips  the  slower 
mental  process  of  the  other  sex.  The  mother 
who  has  to  see  a  beloved  daughter's  silent  suf- 
fering, well  knowing  another  girl  to  be,  however  in- 
directly, the  cause  of  it,  sees  all  manner  of  other  iniquities 
in  that  other  girl.  Kind,  charitable  and  gentle  was  Mrs. 
Dade,  a  wise  mother,  too,  as  well  as  most  loving,  but  she 
could  look  with  neither  kindness  nor  charity  on  Miss 
Flower.  She  had  held  her  peace;  allowed  no  word  of 
censure  or  criticism  to  escape  her  when  the  women  were 
discussing  that  young  lady;  but  all  the  more  vehement 
was  her  distrust,  because  thus  pent  up  and  repressed. 
With  the  swiftness  of  feminine  thought,  for  no  man  had 
yet  suspected,  she  fathomed  the  secret  of  the  trader's 
sudden  going;  and,  carried  away  by  the  excitement  of 
the  moment  and  the  belief  that  none  but  her  husband 
could  hear,  she  had  made  that  startling  announcement. 
And  her  intuition  was  unerring.  Nanette  Flower  was 
indeed  gone. 

Yet  for  nearly  an  hour  she  stood  alone  in  her  convic- 
tion.   Her  husband  quickly  cautioned  silence,  and,  going 

J73 


174  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX; 

forth,  gave  instructions  to  the  couriers  that  se^t  thenl 
speeding  for  the  RawHns  road.  But  at  seven  o'clock  Mrs. 
Hay  herself  appeared  and  asked  to  see  the  general,  who 
was  taking  at  the  moment  his  accustomed  bracer,  tonic 
and  stimulant, — the  only  kind  he  was  ever  known  to  use 
— a  cold  bath.  So  it  was  to  Mrs.  Dade,  in  ail  apparent 
frankness  and  sincerity,  the  trader's  wife  began  her 
tale. 

Everyone  at  Frayne  well  knew  that  her  anxiety  as  to 
the  outcome  of  the  battle  on  the  Elk  had  well  nigh  equalled 
that  of  the  wives  and  sweethearts  within  the  garrison. 
While  her  niece,  after  the  first  day's  excitement,  kept  to 
her  room,  the  aunt  went  flitting  from  house  to  house,  full 
of  sympathy  and  suggestion,  but  obviously  more  deeply 
concerned  than  they  had  ever  seen  her.  Now,  she  seemed 
worried  beyond  words  at  thought  of  her  husband's  having 
to  go  at  just  this  time.  It  was  mainly  on  Nanette's  ac- 
^  count,  she  said.  Only  last  night,  with  the  mail  from 
Laramie,  had  come  a  letter  posted  in  San  Francisco  the 
week  before,  telling  Miss  Flower  that  her  dearest  friend 
and  roommate  for  four  years  at  school,  who  had  been  on 
an  extended  bridal  tour,  would  pass  through  Rawlins, 
eastward  bound,  on  Friday's  train,  and  begging  Nanette 
to  meet  her  and  go  as  far  at  least  as  Cheyenne.  Her  hus- 
band, it  seems,  had  been  hurriedly  recalled  to  New  York, 
and  there  was  no  help  for  it.  Nanette  had  expected  to 
join  her,  and  go  all  the  way  East  in  late  October  or  early 
November;  had  given  her  promise,  in  fact,  for  she  was 
vastly  excited  by  the  news,  and  despite  headache  and 


A  WOMAN'S  PLOT  175 

lassitude  that  had  oppressed  her  for  two  days  past,  she 
declared  she  must  go,  and  Uncle  Will  must  take  her.  So, 
with  only  a  small  trunk,  hastily  packed,  of  her  belong- 
ings, and  an  iron-bound  chest  of  the  trader's,  the  two  had 
started  before  dawn  in  Uncle  Bill's  stout  buckboard,  be- 
hind his  famous  four  mule  team,  with  Pete  to  drive,  and 
two  sturdy  ranchmen  as  outriders,  hoping  to  reach  the 
Medicine  Bow  by  late  afternoon,  and  rest  at  Brenner's 
Ranch. 

Confidentially,  Mrs.  Hay  told  Mrs.  Dade  that  her 
husband  was  glad  of  the  excuse  to  take  the  route  up  the 
Platte  instead  of  the  old,  rough  trail  southeastward  over 
the  mountains  to  Rock  Creek,  for  he  had  a  large  sum 
in  currency  to  get  to  the  bank,  and  there  were  desperados 
along  the  mountain  route  who  well  knew  he  would  have 
to  send  that  money  in,  and  were  surely  on  lookout  to 
waylay  him — or  it.  Ever  since  pay-day  two  or  three 
rough  characters  had  been  hanging  about  the  store,  and 
Hay  suspected  they  were  watching  his  movements,  with 
the  intention  of  getting  word  to  their  comrades  in  crime 
the  moment  he  started,  and  it  was  almost  as  much  to 
steal  a  march  on  them,  as  to  oblige  Nanette,  he  so  will- 
ingly left  before  it  was  light.  The  Rawlins  road  followed 
the  Platte  Valley  all  the  way  to  Brenner's,  and,  once  there, 
he  would  feel  safe,  whereas  the  Rock  Creek  trail  wound 
through  gulch,  ravine  and  forest  most  of  the  distance, 
affording  many  a  chance  for  ambuscade.  Of  course,  said 
Mrs.  Hay,  if  her  husband  had  for  a  moment  supposed 
the  general  would  wish  to  see  him,  he  would  not  have 


176  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

gone,  adding,  with  just  a  little  touch  of  proper,  wifelike 
spirit,  that  on  the  general's  previous  visits  he  had  never 
seemed  to  care  whether  he  saw  Mr.  Hay  or  not. 

All  this  did  Mrs.  Dade  accept  with  courteous  yet 
guarded  interest.  They  were  seated  in  the  little  army 
parlor,  talking  in  low  tone;  for,  with  unfailing  tact,  Mrs. 
Hay  had  asked  for  Esther,  and  expressed  her  sympathy 
on  hearing  of  her  being  unnerved  by  the  excitement 
through  which  they  had  passed.  Well  she  knew  that 
Field's  serious  condition  had  not  a  little  to  do  with  poor 
Esther's  prostration,  but  that  was  knowledge  never  to 
be  hinted  at.  Dade  himself  she  did  not  wish  to  meet 
just  now.  He  was  too  direct  a  questioner,  and  had  said 
and  looked  things  about  Nanette  that  made  her  dread 
him.  She  knew  that,  however  austere  and  commanding 
he  might  be  when  acting  under  his  own  convictions,  he 
was  abnormally  susceptible  to  uxorial  views,  and  the  way 
0  to  win  the  captain's  sympathies  or  avert  his  censure,  was 
to  secure  the  kindly  interest  of  his  wife.  Mrs.  Hay 
knew  that  he  had  sent  couriers  off  by  the  Rawlins  road — 
a  significant  thing  in  itself — and  that  couriers  had  come 
in  from  the  north  with  further  news  from  Webb.  She 
knew  he  had  gone  to  the  office,  and  would  probably  re- 
main there  until  summoned  for  breakfast,  and  now  was 
her  time,  for  there  was  something  further  to  be  spoken 
of,  and  while  gentle  and  civil,  Mrs.  Dade  had  not  been 
receptive.  It  was  evident  to  the  trader's  wife  that  her 
lord  and  master  had  made  a  mistake  in  leaving  when 
he  did.    He  knew  the  general  was  on  the  way.    He  knew. 


A  WOMAN'S  PLOT  i77 

there  was  that  money  business  to  be  cleared  up,  yet  she 
knew  there  were  reasons  why  she  wanted  him  away, — 
reasons  hardest  of  all  to  plausibly  explain.  There  were 
reasons,  indeed,  why  she  was  glad  Nanette  was  gone. 
All  Fort  Frayne  was  devoted  to  Esther  Dade  and,  how- 
ever unjustly,  most  of  Fort  Frayne, — men,  women  and 
children, — attributed  Field's  defection,  as  they  chose  to 
call  it,  to  Nanette — Nanette  who  had  set  at  naught  her 
aunt's  most  ardent  wishes,  in  even  noticing  Field  at  all. 
Money,  education,  everything  she  could  give  had  been 
lavished  on  that  girl,  and  now,  instead  of  casting  her  net 
for  that  well-to-do  and  distinguished  bachelor,  the  major, 
thereby  assuring  for  herself  the  proud  position  of  first 
lady  of  Fort  Frayne,  the  wife  of  the  commanding  officer, 
Nanette  had  been  deliberately  throwing  herself  away  at 
a  beardless,  moneyless  second  lieutenant,  because  he 
danced  and  rode  well.  Mrs.  Hay  did  not  blame  Mrs. 
Dade  at  that  moment  for  hating  the  girl,  if  hate  she  did. 
She  could  have  shaken  her,  hard  and  well,  herself,  yet 
was  utterly  nonplussed  to  find  that  Nanette  cared  next 
to  nothing  how  badly  Field  was  wounded.  What  she 
seemed  to  care  to  know  was  about  the  casualties  among 
the  Sioux,  and,  now  that  Stabber's  village,  the  last  living 
trace  of  it,  old  men,  squaws,  children,  pappooses,  ponies 
and  puppies  and  other  living  creatures  had,  between  two 
days,  been  whisked  away  to  the  hills,  there  were  no  more 
Indians  close  at  hand  to  whisper  information. 

She  was  glad  Nanette  was  gone,  because  Field,  wounded 
and  present,  would  have  advantages  over  possible  suitors 


178         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

absent  on  campaign — because  all  the  women  and  a  few  of 
the  men  were  now  against  her,  and  because  from  some 
vague,  intangible  symptoms,  Mrs.  Hay  had  satisfied  her- 
self that  there  was  something  in  the  wind  Nanette  was 
hiding  even  from  her — her  benefactress,  her  best  friend, 
and  it  seemed  like  cold-blooded  treachery.  Hay  had  for 
two  days  been  disturbed,  nervous  and  unhappy,  yet  would 
not  tell  her  why.  He  had  been  cross-questioning  Pete, 
"  Crapaud  "  and  other  employees,  and  searching  about 
the  premises  in  a  way  that  excited  curiosity  and  even  re- 
sentment, for  the  explanation  he  gave  was  utterly  inade- 
quate. To  satisfy  her  if  possible,  he  had  confided,  as  he 
said,  the  fact  that  certain  money  for  which  Lieutenant 
Field  was  accountable,  had  been  stolen.  The  cash  had 
been  carefully  placed  in  his  old-fashioned  safe;  the  miss- 
ing money,  therefore,  had  been  taken  while  still  virtually 
in  his  charge.  "  They  might  even  suspect  me,"  he  said, 
which  she  knew  would  not  be  the  case.  "  They  forbade 
my  speaking  of  it  to  anybody,  but  I  simply  had  to  tell 
you."  She  felt  sure  there  was  something  he  was  con- 
cealing ;  something  he  would  not  tell  her ;  something  con- 
cerning Nanette,  therefore,  because  she  so  loved  Nanette, 
he  shrank  from  revealing  what  might  wound  her.  In- 
deed, it  was  best  that  Nanette  should  go  for  the  time,  at 
least,  but  Mrs.  Hay  little  dreamed  that  others  would  be 
saying — even  this  kindly,  gentle  woman  before  her — that 
Nanette  should  have  stayed  until  certain  strange  things 
were  thoroughly  and  satisfactorily  explained. 

But  the  moment  she  began,  faltering  not  a  little,  to 


A  WOMAN'S  PLOT  179 

speak  of  matters  at  the  post,  as  a  means  of  leading  up  to 
Nanette — matters  concerning  Lieutenant  Field  and  his 
financial  affairs, — to  her  surprise  Mrs.  Dade  gently  up- 
lifted her  hand  and  voice.  "  I  am  going  to  ask  you 
not  to  tell  me,  Mrs.  Hay,"  said  she.  "  Captain  Dade  has 
given  me  to  understand  there  was  something  to  be  in- 
vestigated, but  preferred  that  I  should  not  ask  about  it. 
Now,  the  general  will  be  down  in  fifteen  or  twenty  min- 
utes. I  suggest  that  we  walk  over  the  hospital  and 
see  how  Mr.  Field  is  getting  on.  We  can  talk,  you  know, 
as  we  go.  Then  you  will  breakfast  with  us.  Indeed, 
may  I  not  give  you  a  cup  of  coffee  now,  Mrs.  Hay?  " 

But  Mrs.  Hay  said  no.  She  had  had  coffee  before 
coming.  She  would  go  and  see  if  there  was  anything 
they  could  do  for  Field,  and  would  try  again  to  induce 
Mrs.  Dade  to  listen  to  certain  of  her  explanations. 

But  Mrs.  Dade  was  silent  and  preoccupied.  She  was 
thinking  of  that  story  of  Nanette's  going,  and  wonder- 
ing whether  it  could  be  true.  She  was  wondering  if 
Mrs.  Hay  knew  the  couriers  had  gone  to  recall  Hay, 
>  and  that  if  he  and  Nanette  failed  to  return  it  might  mean 
trouble  for  both.  She  could  accord  to  Mrs.  Hay  no  con- 
fidences of  her  own,  and  had  been  compelled  to  decline 
to  listen  to  those  with  which  Mrs.  Hay  would  have 
favored  hei'.  She  was  thinking  of  something  still  more 
perplexing.  The  general,  as  her  husband  finally  told 
her,  had  asked  first  thing  to  see  Hay,  and  later  declared 
that  he  wished  to  talk  with  Mrs.  Hay  and  see  Nanette, 
Was  it  possible  he  knew  anything  of  what  she  knew— 


i8o  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

that  between  Hay's  household  and  Stabber's  village  there 
had  been  communication  of  some  kind — that  the  first  thing 
found  in  the  Indian  pouch  brought  home  by  Captain 
Blake,  was  a  letter  addressed  in  Nanette  Flower's  hand, 
and  with  it  three  card  photographs,  two  of  them  of  un- 
mistakable Indians  in  civilized  garb,  and  two  letters,  ad- 
dressed, like  hers,  to  Mr.  Ralph  Moreau, — one  care  of 
the  Rev.  Jasper  Strong,  Valentine,  Nebraska,  the  other 
to  the  general  delivery,  Omaha? 

Yes,  that  pouch  brought  in  by  Captain  Blake  had  con- 
tained matter  too  weighty  for  one  woman,  wise  as  she 
was,  to  keep  to  herself.  Mrs.  Blake,  with  her  husband's 
full  consent,  had  summoned  Mrs.  Ray,  soon  after  his 
departure  on  the  trail  of  Webb,  and  told  her  of  the  strange 
discovery.  They  promptly  decided  there  was  only  one 
thing  to  do  with  the  letter; — hand  or  send  it,  unopened, 
to  Miss  Flower.  Then,  as  Blake  had  had  no  time  to 
examine  further,  they  decided  to  search  the  pouch.  There 
might  be  more  letters  in  the  same  superscription. 

But  there  were  not.  They  found  tobacco,  beeswax,  an 
empty  flask  that  had  contained  whiskey,  vaseline.  Pond's 
Extract,  salve,  pigments,  a  few  sheets  of  note  paper,  en- 
velopes and  pencil — odd  things  to  find  in  the  possession 
of  a  Sioux — a  burning  glass,  matches,  some  quinine  pills, 
cigars,  odds  and  ends  of  little  consequence,  and  those 
letters  addressed  to  R.  Moreau.  The  first  one  they  had 
already  decided  shotild  go  to  Miss  Flower.  The  others, 
they  thought,  should  be  handed  unopened  to  the  com- 
manding officer.    They  might  contain  important  informa- 


A  WOMAN'S  PLOT  i8i 

tioii,  now  that  the  Sioux  were  at  war  and  that  Ralph 
Moreau  had  turned  out  probably  to  be  a  real  personage. 
But  first  they  would  consult  Mrs.  Dade.  They  had  done 
so  the  very  evening  of  Blake's  departure,  even  as  he,  long 
miles  away,  was  telling  Kennedy  his  Irish  heart  was  safe 
from  the  designs  of  one  blood-thirsty  Sioux;  and  Mrs» 
Dade  had  agreed  with  them  that  Nanette's  letter  should 
be  sent  to  her  forthwith,  and  that,  as  Captain  Blake  had 
brought  it  in,  the  duty  of  returning  the  letter  devolved 
upon  his  wife. 

And  so,  after  much  thought  and  consultation,  a  little 
note  was  written,  saying  nothing  about  the  other  contents 
or  about  the  pouch  itself.  "  Dear  Miss  Flower :"  it  read. 
**  The  enclosed  was  found  by  Captain  Blake  some  time 
this  morning.  He  had  no  time  to  deliver  it  in  person. 
Yours  sincerely.     N.  B.  Blake." 

She  would  enter  into  no  explanation  and  would  say 
nothing  of  the  consultation.  She  could  not  bring  herself 
to  sign  her  name  as  usually  she  signed  it,  Nannie  Bryan 
Blake.  She  had,  as  any  man  or  woman  would  have  had, 
a  consuming  desire  to  know  what  Miss  Flower  could  be 
writing  to  a  Mr.  Moreau,  whose  correspondence  turned 
up  in  this  remarkable  way,  in  the  pouch  of  a  painted 
Sioux.  But  she  and  they  deemed  it  entirely  needless  to 
assure  Miss  Flower  no  alien  eye  had  peered  into  the 
mysterious  pages.  (It  might  have  resulted  in  marvellous 
developments  if  Miss  Flower  thought  they  had.)  Note 
and  enclosure  were  sent  first  thing  next  morning  by  the 
trusty  hand  of  Master  Sanford  Ray,  himself,  and  by  him 


1 82  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

delivered  in  person  to  Miss  Flower,  who  met  him  at  the 
trader's  gate.  She  took  it,  he  said;  and  smiled,  and 
thanked  him  charmingly  before  she  opened  it.  She  was 
coming  out  for  her  customary  walk  at  the  hour  of  guard 
mounting,  but  the  next  thing  he  knew  she  had  ''  scooted  " 
indoors  again. 

And  from  that  moment  Miss  Flower  had  not  been 
seen. 

All  this  was  Mrs.  Dade  revolving  in  mind  as  she  walked 
pityingly  by  the  side  of  the  troubled  woman,  only  vaguely 
listening  to  her  flow  of  words.  They  had  thought  to  be 
admitted  to  the  little  room  in  which  the  wounded  officer 
lay,  but  as  they  tiptoed  into  the  wide,  airy  hall  and  looked 
over  the  long  vista  of  pink-striped  coverlets  in  the  big 
ward  beyond,  the  doctor  himself  appeared  at  the  entrance 
and  barred  the  way. 

"  Is  there  nothing  we  can  do?  "  asked  Mrs.  Dade,  with 
tears  in  her  voice.     "  Is  he — so  much  worse  ?  " 

*'  Nothing  can  be  done  just  now,"  answered  Waller, 
gravely.  "  He  has  had  high  fever  during  the  night — 
has  been  wakeful  and  flighty  again.  I — should  rather 
no  one  entered  just  now." 

And  then  they  noted  that  even  the  steward  who  had 
been  with  poor  Field  was  now  hovering  about  the  door 
of  the  dispensary  and  that  only  Dr.  Waller  remained 
within  the  room.  *M  am  hoping  to  get  him  to  sleep 
again  presently,"  said  he.  "  And  when  he  is  mending 
there  will  be  a  host  of  things  for  you  both  to  do." 

But  that  mending  seemed  many  a  day  off,  and  Mrs. 


A  WOMAN'S  PLOT  183 

Hay,  poor  woman,  had  graver  cares  of  her  own  before 
the  setting  sun.  Avoiding  the  possibility  of  meeting  the 
general  just  now,  and  finding  Mrs.  Dade  both  silent  and 
constrained  at  mention  of  her  niece's  name,  the  trader's 
wife  went  straightway  homeward  from  the  hospital,  and 
did  not  even  see  the  post  commander  hurrying  from  his 
office,  with  an  open  despatch  in  his  hand.  But  by  this 
time  the  chief  and  his  faithful  aide  were  out  on  the 
veranda,  surrounded  by  anxious  wives  and  daughters, 
many  of  whom  had  been  earnestly  bothering  the  doctor 
at  the  hospital  before  going  to  breakfast.  Dade  much 
wished  them  away,  though  the  news  brought  in  by  night 
riders  was  both  stirring  and  cheery.  The  Indians  had 
flitted  away  from  Webb's  front,  and  he  counted  on 
reaching  and  rescuing  the  Dry  Fork  party  within  six 
hours  from  the  time  the  courier  started.  They  might 
expect  the  good  news  during  the  afternoon  of  Thursday. 
Scouts  and  flankers  reported  finding  travois  and  pony 
tracks  leading  westward  from  the  scene  of  Ray's  fierce 
battle,  indicating  that  the  Indians  had  carried  their  dead 
and  wounded  into  the  fastnesses  of  the  southern  slopes 
of  the  Big  Horn,  and  that  their  punishment  had  been 
heavy.  Among  the  chiefs  killed  or  seriously  wounded 
was  this  new,  vehement  leader  whom  Captains  Blake  and 
Ray  thought  might  be  Red  Fox,  who  was  so  truculent 
at  the  Black  Hills  conference  the  previous  year.  Cer- 
tain of  the  men,  however,  who  had  seen  Red  Fox  at  that 
time  expressed  doubts.  Lieutenant  Field,  said  Webb, 
ba(i  seen  him,  and  could  probably  say. 


1 84  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

Over  this  despatch  the  general  pondered  gravely. 
"  From  what  I  know  of  Red  Fox,"  said  he,  "  I  should 
think  him  a  leader  of  the  Sitting  Bull  type, — a  shrew,  in- 
trigumg,  mischief-making  fellow,  a  sort  of  Sioux  walk- 
ing delegate,  not  a  battle  leader ;  but  according  to  Blake 
and  Ray  this  new  man  is  a  fighter." 

Then  Mrs.  Dade  came  out  and  bore  the  general  off  to 
breakfast,  and  during  breakfast  the  chief  was  much  pre- 
occupied. Mrs.  Dade  and  the  aide-de-camp  chatted  on 
social  matters.  The  general  exchanged  an  occasional 
word  with  his  host  and  hostess,  and  finally  surprised 
neither  of  them,  when  breakfast  was  over  and  he  had 
consumed  the  last  of  his  glass  of  hot  water,  by  saying 
to  his  staff  officer,  "  I  should  like  to  see  Mrs.  Hay  a 
few  minutes,  if  possible.  We'll  walk  round  there  first. 
Then — let  the  team  be  ready  at  ten  o'clock." 

But  the  team,  although  ready,  did  not  start  northward 
at  ten,  and  the  general,  though  he  saw  Mrs.  Hay,  had 
no  speech  with  her  upon  the  important  matters  upper- 
most in  his  mind  during  the  earlier  hours  of  the  day.  He 
found  that  good  lady  in  a  state  of  wild  excitement  and 
alarm.  One  of  the  two  outriders  who  had  started  with 
her  husband  and  niece  at  dawn,  was  mounted  on  a  dun- 
colored  cow  pony,  with  white  face  and  feet.  One  of 
the  two  troopers  sent  by  Dade  to  overtake  and  bring 
them  back,  was  turning  a  blown  and  exhausted  horse 
over  to  the  care  of  Hay's  stablemen,  as  he  briefly  told 
his  story  to  the  wild-eyed,  well  nigh  distracted  woman. 
Six  miles  up  stream,  he  said,  they  had  come  suddenly 


A  WOJVIAN'S  PLOT  185 

upon  a  dun-colored  cow  pony,  dead  in  his  tracks,  with 
white  feet  in  air  and  white  muzzle  bathed  in  blood ;  bridle, 
saddle  and  rider  gone ;  signs  of  struggle  in  places — but  no 
signs  of  the  party,  the  team  and  wagon,  anywhere. 

"  And  no  cavalry  to  send  out  after  them ! "  said  Dade, 
when  he  reached  the  spot.  Old  Crabb  was  called  at 
once,  and  mustered  four  semi-invalided  troopers.  The 
infantry  supplied  half  a  dozen  stout  riders  and,  with  a 
mixed  escort,  the  general,  accompanied  by  Dade  and  the 
aide-de-camp,  drove  swiftly  to  the  scene.  Six  miles 
away  they  found  the  dead  pony.  Seven  miles  away  they 
encountered  the  second  trooper,  coming  back.  He  had 
followed  the  trail  of  the  four  mule  team  as  far  as  yonder 
point,  said  he,  and  there  was  met  by  half  a  dozen  shots 
from  unseen  foe,  and  so  rode  back  out  of  range.  But 
Dade  threw  his  men  forward  as  skirmishers;  found  no 
living  soul  either  at  the  point  or  on  the  banks  of  the 
rocky  ford  beyond;  but,  in  the  shallows,  close  to  the 
shore,  lay  the  body  of  the  second  outrider,  shot  and 
scalped.  In  a  clump  of  willows  lay  another  body,  that 
of  a  pinto  pony,  hardly  cold,  while  the  soft,  sandy  shores 
were  cut  by  dozens  of  hoof  tracks — shoeless.  The  tracks 
of  the  mules  and  wagon  lay  straight  away  across  the 
stream  bed — up  the  opposite  bank  and  out  on  the  north- 
ward-sweeping bench  beyond.  Hay's  famous  four,  and 
well-known  wagon,  contents  and  all,  therefore,  had  been 
spirited  away,  not  toward  the  haunts  of  the  road  agents 
in  the  mountains  of  the  Medicine  Bow,  but  to  those  of  the 
sovereign  Sioux  in  the  fastnesses  of  the  storied  Big  Horn. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

NIGHT    PROWLING    AT    FRAYNE 

IN  the  full  of  the  September  moon  the  war-bands  of 
the  Sioux  had  defied  agents  and  peace  chiefs,  com- 
missioners and  soldiers,  and  started  their  wild 
campaign  in  northern  Wyoming.  In  the  full  of  the 
October  moon  the  big  chief  of  the  whites  had  swept  the 
last  vestige  of  their  warriors  from  the  plains,  and  fol- 
lowed their  bloody  trails  into  the  heart  of  the  moun- 
tains, all  his  cavalry  and  much  of  his  foot  force  being 
needed  for  the  work  in  hand.  Not  until  November,  there- 
fore, when  the  ice  bridge  spanned  the  still  reaches  of  the 
Platte,  and  the  snow  lay  deep  in  the  brakes  and  coulees, 
did  the  foremost  of  the  homeward-bound  commands  come 
in  view  of  old  Fort  Frayne,  and  meantime  very  remark- 
able things  had  occurred,  and  it  was  to  a  very  different, 
if  only  temporary,  post  commander  that  Sandy  Ray  re- 
ported them  as  "  sighted."  Even  brave  old  Dade  had 
been  summoned  to  the  front,  with  all  his  men,  and  in 
their  place  had  come  from  distant  posts  in  Kansas  other 
troops  to  occupy  the  vacant  quarters  and  strive  to  feel  at 
home  in  strange  surroundings. 
A  man  of  austere  mold  was  the  new  major, — one  of 

xa6 


NIGHT  PROWLING  AT  FRAYNE        187 

the  old  Covenanter  type,  who  would  march  to  battle 
shouting  hymn  tunes,  and  to  Christmas  and  Thanksgiving 
chanting  doleful  lays.  He  hailed,  indeed,  from  old  Pu- 
ritan stock ;  had  been  a  pillar  in  the  village  church  in  days 
before  the  great  war,  and  emulated  Stonewall  Jackson 
in  his  piety,  if  he  did  not  in  martial  prowess.  Backed  by 
local,  and  by  no  means  secular,  influences  he  had  risen 
in  the  course  of  the  four  years'  war  from  a  junior  lieu- 
tenancy to  the  grade  of  second  in  command  of  his  far 
eastern  regiment;  had  rendered  faithful  services  in  com- 
mand of  convalescent  camps  and  the  like,  but  developed 
none  of  that  vain  ambition  which  prompts  the  seeking 
of  "  the  bubble  reputation  "  at  the  cannon's  mouth.  All 
he  ever  knew  of  Southern  men  in  antebellum  days  was 
what  he  heard  from  the  lips  of  inspired  orators  or  read 
from  the  pens  of  very  earnest  anti-slavery  editors. 
Through  lack  of  opportunity  he  had  met  no  Southerner 
before  the  war,  and  carried  his  stanch,  Calvinistic  prej- 
udices to  such  extent  that  he  seemed  to  shrink  from 
closer  contact  even  then.  The  war  was  holy.  The  hand 
of  the  Lord  would  surely  smite  the  slave-holding  arch 
rebel,  which  was  perhaps  why  the  Covenanter  thought  it 
work  of  supererogation  to  raise  his  own.  He  finished  as 
he  began  the  war,  in  the  unalterable  conviction  that  the 
Southern  President,  his  cabinet  and  all  his  leading  officers 
should  be  hung,  and  their  lands  confiscated  to  the  state 
— or  its  representatives.  He  had  been  given  a  commission 
in  the  army  when  such  things  were  not  hard  to  get — 
at  th^  reorganization  in  *66,  had  been  stationed  in  a  Ku 


1 88  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

KIux  district  all  ore  winter  and  in  a  sanitarium  most  of 
the  year  that  followed.  He  thought  the  nation  on  the 
highroad  to  hell  when  it  failed  to  impeach  the  President 
of  high  crimes  and  misdemeanors,  and  sent  Hancock  to 
harmonize  matters  in  Louisiana.  He  was  sure  of  it  when 
the  son  of  a  Southerner,  who  had  openly  flouted  him,  was 
sent  to  West  Point.  He  retained  these  radical  views  even 
unto  the  twentieth  anniversary  of  the  great  surrender; 
aiid,  while  devoutly  praying  for  forgiveness  of  his  own 
sins,  could  never  seem  to  forgive  those  whose  lot  had 
been  cast  with  the  South.  He  was  utterly  nonplussed 
when  told  that  the  young  officer,  languishing  in  hospital 
on  his  arrival,  was  the  son  of  a  distinguished  major-gen- 
eral of  the  Confederate  Army,  and  he  planned  for  the 
father  a  most  frigid  greeting,  until  reminded  that  the 
former  major-general  was  now  a  member  of  Congress 
and  of  the  committee  on  military  affairs.  Then  it  became 
his  duty  to  overlook  the  past. 

He  had  not  entered  Field's  little  room,  even  when  in- 
specting hospital  (Flint  was  forever  inspecting  some- 
thing or  other) — the  doctor's  assurance  that,  though 
feeble,  his  patient  was  doing  quite  well,  was  all  sufficient. 
He  had  thought  to  greet  the  former  Confederate,  a  sorely 
anxious  father,  with  grave  and  distant  civility,  as  an 
avowed  and  doubtless  unregenerate  enemy,  of  that  sacred 
flag ;  but,  as  has  been  said,  that  was  before  it  was  pointed 
out  to  him  that  this  was  the  Honorable  M.  C.  from  the 
Pelican  State,  now  prominent  as  a  member  of  the  House 
Committee  on  Military  Affairs.    Motherless  and  sister- 


NIGHT  PROWIJNG  AT  FRAYNE         189 

less  was  the  wounded  boy,  yet  gentle  and  almost  caressing 
hands  had  blessed  his  pillow  and  helped  to  drive  fever 
and  delirium  to  the  winds.  It  was  twelve  days  after  they 
brought  him  back  to  Frayne  before  the  father  could  hope 
to  reach  him,  coming  post  haste,  too;  but  by  that  time 
the  lad  was  propped  on  his  pillows,  weak,  sorrowing  and 
sorely  troubled,  none  the  less  so  because  there  was  no 
one  now  to  whom  he  could  say  why. 

The  men  whom  he  knew  and  trusted  were  all  away  on 
campaign,  all  save  the  veteran  post  surgeon,  whom 
hitherto  he  had  felt  he  hardly  knew  at  all.  The  women 
whom  he  had  best  known  and  trusted  were  still  present 
at  the  post.  Mrs.  Ray  and  Mrs.  Blake  had  been  his 
friends,  frank,  cordial  and  sincere  up  to  the  week  of 
his  return  from  Laramie  and  his  sudden  and  overwhelm- 
ing infatuation  for  Nanette  Flower.  Then  they  had 
seemed  to  hold  aloof,  to  greet  him  only  with  courtesy, 
and  to  eye  him  with  unspoken  reproach.  The  woman  at 
Fort  Frayne  to  whom  he  most  looked  up  was  Mrs.  Dade, 
and  now  Mrs.  Dade  seemed  alienated  utterly.  She  had 
been  to  inquire  for  him  frequently,  said  his  attendant, 
when  he  was  so  racked  with  fever.  So  had  others,  and 
they  sent  him  now  jellies  and  similar  delicacies,  but  came 
no  more  in  person — just  yet  at  least — but  he  did  not  know 
the  doctor  so  desired.  Field  knew  that  his  father,  after 
the  long,  long  journey  from  the  distant  South,  was  now 
close  at  hand, — would  be  with  him  within  a  few  hours, 
and  even  with  Ray's  warm  words  of  praise  still  ringing 
in  his  ears,  the  young  soldier  was  looking  to  that  father's 


I90  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

coming  almost  with  distress.  It  was  through  God's  mercy 
and  the  wisdom  of  the  old  surgeon  that  no  word,  as  yet, 
had  been  whispered  to  him  of  the  discovery  made  when 
the  money  packages  were  opened — of  the  tragic  fate  that 
had,  possibly,  befallen  Bill  Hay  and  Miss  Flower. 

That  a  large  sum  of  money  was  missing,  and  that  Field 
was  the  accountable  officer,  was  already  whispered  about 
the  garrison.  The  fact  that  four  officers  and  Mr.  Hay 
were  aware  of  it  in  the  first  place,  and  the  latter  had 
told  it  to  his  wife,  was  fatal  to  entire  secrecy.  But,  in 
the  horror  and  excitement  that  prevailed  when  the  details 
of  the  later  tragedy  were  noised  about  the  post,  this  minor 
incident  had  been  almost  forgotten. 

The  disappearance  of  Hay  and  his  brilliant,  beautiful 
niece,  however,  was  not  to  be  forgotten  for  a  moment, 
day  or  night,  despite  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Hay,  who  had 
been  almost  crazed  with  dread  and  terror  when  first  in- 
formed there  had  been  a  "  hold-up,"  rallied  almost  im- 
mediately, and  took  heart  and  hope  when  it  became 
apparent  that  Indians,  not  white  men,  were  the 
captors. 

"  The  Sioux  would  never  harm  a  hair  of  his  head,"  she 
proudly  declared.  "  He  has  been  their  friend  for  half  a 
century."  Nor  had  she  fears  for  Nanette.  The  Sioux 
would  harm  nobody  her  husband  sought  to  protect.  When 
it  was  pointed  out  to  her  that  they  had  harmed  the 
guards, — that  one  of  them  was  found  shot  dead  and 
scalped  at  the  shores  of  the  Platte,  and  the  other,  poor 
fellow,  had  crawled  off  among  the  rocks  and  blec}  \o  death 


NIGHT  PROWLING  AT  FRAYNE        191 

within  gunshot  of  the  scene, — Mrs.  Hay  said  they  must 
have  first  shown  fight  and  shot  some  of  the  Sioux,  for  all 
the  Indians  knew  Mr.  Hay's  wagon.  Then  why,  asked 
Fort  Frayne,  had  they  molested  him — and  his? 

The  general  had  had  to  leave  for  the  front  without 
seeing  Mrs.  Hay.  More  than  ever  was  it  necessary  that 
he  should  be  afield,  for  this  exploit  showed  that  some  of 
the  Sioux,  at  least,  had  cut  loose  from  the  main  body 
and  had  circled  back  toward  the  Platte — Stabber's  people 
in  all  probability.  So,  sending  Crabb  and  his  little  squad 
across  the  river  to  follow  a  few  miles,  at  least,  the  trail 
of  the  wagon  and  its  captors,  and  ascertain,  if  possible, 
whither  it  had  gone,  he  hurried  back  to  Frayne;  sent 
messengers  by  the  Laramie  road  to  speed  the  cavalry,  and 
orders  to  the  colonel  to  send  two  troops  at  once  to  rescue 
Hay  and  his  niece ;  sent  wires  calling  for  a  few  reinforce- 
ments, and  was  off  on  the  way  to  Beecher,  guarded  by  a 
handful  of  sturdy  "  doughboys "  in  ambulances,  before 
ever  the  body  of  the  second  victim  was  found. 

And  then,  little  by  little,  it  transpired  that  this  mysteri- 
ous war  party,  venturing  to  the  south  bank  of  the  Platte, 
did  not  exceed  half  a  dozen  braves.  Crabb  got  back  in 
thirty-six  hours,  with  five  exhausted  men.  They  had  fol- 
lowed the  wheel  tracks  over  the  open  prairie  and  into  the 
foothills  far  to  the  Northwest,  emboldened  by  the  evidence 
of  there  being  but  few  ponies  in  the  original  bandit 
escort.  But,  by  four  in  the  afternoon,  they  got  among 
the  breaks  and  ravines  and,  first  thing  they  knew,  among 
the  Indians,   for  zip  came  the  bullets  and  down  went 


i93t  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

two  horses,  and  they  had  to  dismount  and  fight  to  stand 
off  possible  swarms,  and,  though  owning  they  had  seen 
no  Indians,  they  had  proof  of  having  felt  them,  and  were 
warranted  in  pushing  no  further.  After  dark  they  began 
their  slow  retreat  and  here  they  were. 

And  for  seven  days  that  was  the  last  heard,  by  the 
garrison,  at  least,  of  these  most  recent  captives  of  the 
Sioux.  Gentle  and  sympathetic  women,  however,  who 
called  on  Mrs.  Hay,  were  prompt  to  note  that  though 
unnerved,  unstrung,  distressed,  she  declared  again  and 
again  her  faith  that  the  Indians  would  never  really  harm 
her  husband.  They  might  hold  him  and  Nanette  as 
hostages  for  ransom.  They  might  take  for  their  own 
purposes  his  wagon,  his  mules  and  that  store  of  money, 
but  his  life  was  safe,  yes,  and  Nanette's  too.  Of  this 
she  was  so  confident  that  people  began  to  wonder  whether 
she  had  not  received  some  assurance  to  that  effect,  and 
when  Pete,  the  stable  boy  driver,  turned  up  at  the  end 
of  the  first  week  with  a  cock-and-bull  story  about  having 
stolen  an  Indian  pony  and  shot  his  way  from  the  midst 
of  the  Sioux  away  up  on  No  Wood  Creek,  on  the  west 
side  of  the  hills,  and  having  ridden  by  night  and 
hidden  by  day  until  he  got  back  to  the  Platte  and  Frayne, 
people  felt  sure  of  it.  Pete  could  talk  Sioux  better  than 
he  could  jabber  English.  He  declared  the  Indians  were 
in  the  hills  by  thousands,  and  were  going  to  take  Hay 
and  the  young  lady  away  off  somewhere  to  be  held  for 
safe  keeping.  He  said  the  two  troops  that,  never  even 
halting  at  Frayne,  had  pushed  out  on  the  trail,  would 


NIGHT   TROWLING  AT  FRAYNE       193 

only  get  into  trouble  if  they  tried  to  enter  the  hills  from  the 
South,  and  that  they  would  never  get  the  captives,  wherein 
Pete  was  right,  for  away  out  among  the  spurs  and  gorges 
of  the  range,  fifty  miles  from  Frayne,  the  pursuers  came 
upon  the  wreck  of  the  wagon  at  the  foot  of  an  acclivity, 
up  which  a  force  of  Sioux  had  gone  in  single  file.  Many 
warriors  it  would  seem,  however,  must  have  joined  the 
party  on  the  way,  and  from  here, — where  with  the  wagon 
was  found  Hay's  stout  box,  bereft  of  its  contents, — in 
four  different  directions  the  pony  tracks  of  little  parties 
crossed  or  climbed  the  spurs,  and  which  way  the  captives 
had  been  taken.  Captain  Billings,  the  commander,  could 
not  determine.  What  the  Sioux  hoped  he  might  do  was 
divide  his  force  into  four  detachments  and  send  one  on 
each  trail.  Then  they  could  fall  upon  them,  one  by  one, 
and  slay  them  at  their  leisure.  Billings  saw  the  game, 
however,  and  was  not  to  be  caught.  He  knew  Bill  Hay, 
his  past  and  his  popularity  among  the  red  men.  He  knew 
that  if  they  meant  to  kill  him  at  all  they  would  not  have 
taken  the  trouble  to  cart  him  fifty  miles  beforehand.  He 
dropped  the  stern  chase  then  and  there,  and  on  the  fol- 
lowing day  skirted  the  foothills  away  to  the  east  and, 
circling  round  to  the  breaks  of  the  Powder  as  he  reached 
the  open  country,  struck  and  hard  hit  a  scouting  band 
of  Sioux,  and  joined  the  general  three  days  later,  when 
most  he  was  needed,  near  the  log  palisades  of  old  Fort 
Beecher. 

Then  there  had  been  more  or  less  of  mysterious  coming 
and  going  among  the  halfbreed  hangers-on    about    the 


194  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

trader's  store,  and  these  were  things  the  new  post  com- 
mander knew  not  how  to  interpret,  even  when  informed 
of  them.  He  saw  Mrs.  Hay  but  once  or  twice.  He 
moved  into  the  quarters  of  Major  Webb,  possessing  him- 
self, until  his  own  should  arrive,  of  such  of  the  major's 
belongings  as  the  vigilance  of  Mistress  McGann  would 
suffer.  He  stationed  big  guards  from  his  two  small  com- 
panies about  the  post,  and  started  more  hard  swearing 
among  his  own  men,  for  "  getting  only  two  nights  in 
bed,"  than  had  been  heard  at  Frayne  in  long  months  of 
less  pious  post  commandership.  He  strove  to  make  him- 
self agreeable  to  the  ladies,  left  lamenting  for  their  lords, 
but  as  luck  would  have  it,  fell  foremost  into  the  clutches 
of  the  quartermaster's  wife,  the  dominant  and  unterrified 
Wilkins. 

Just  what  prompted  that  energetic  and,  in  many  ways, 
estimable  woman,  to  take  the  new  major  into  close  com- 
munion, and  tell  him  not  only  what  she  knew,  but  what 
she  thought,  about  all  manner  of  matters  at  the  post,  can 
never  be  justly  determined.  But  within  the  first  few  days 
of  his  coming,  and  on  the  eve  of  the  arrival  of  General 
Field,  Major  Flint  was  in  possession  of  the  story  of  how 
devoted  young  Field  had  been  to  Esther  Dade,  and  how 
cruelly  he  had  jilted  her  for  the  brilliant  Miss  Flower, 
"  her  that  was  gone  with  the  Sioux."  The  differences 
between  her  stout,  veteran  liege  and  the  smooth-faced 
stripling  had  given  her  text  to  start  with.  The  story  of 
the  money  lost  had  filtered  from  her  lips,  and  finally  that 
of  other  peccadilloes,  attributable  to  the  yoiing  post  adju- 


NIGHT  PROWLING  AT  FRAYNE       i95 

tant,  whom,  as  she  said,  "  The  meejor  had  to  rejuice  and 
sind  to  the  front  all  along  of  his  doin's  in  gar'son."  Dade 
was  gone.  There  was  no  man  save  Wilkins  to  whom 
Major  Flint  felt  that  he  could  appeal  for  confirmation  or 
denial  of  these  stories.  Dr.  Waller  was  his  senior  in  the 
service  by  ten  years  at  least,  and  a  type  of  the  old-time 
officer  and  gentleman  of  whom  such  as  Flint  stood  ever 
in  awe.  He  preferred,  therefore,  as  he  thought,  to  keep 
the  doctor  at  a  distance,  to  make  him  feel  the  immensity 
of  his,  the  post  commander's,  station,  and  so,  as  Wilkins 
dare  not  disavow  the  sayings  of  his  wife,  even  had  he 
been  so  minded,  the  stories  stood. 

Flint  was  thinking  of  them  this  very  evening  when 
Dr.  Waller,  happening  to  meet  him  on  his  way  from 
hospital  briefly  said  that  General  Field  should  be  with 
them  on  the  morrow.  "  He  leaves  Rock  Creek  to-night, 
having  hired  transportation  there.  I  had  hoped  our  lad 
might  be  in  better  spirits  by  this  time." 

The  major  answered  vaguely.  How  could  a  lad  with 
all  these  sins  upon  his  soul  be  in  anything  but  low  spirits  ? 
Here  was  a  brand  to  be  snatched  from  the  burning,  a 
youth  whom  prompt,  stern  measures  might  redeem  and 
restore,  one  who  should  be  taught  the  error  of  his  ways 
forthwith;  only,  the  coming  of  the  member  of  the  Mili- 
tary Committee  of  the  House  of  Representatives  might 
make  the  process  embarrassing.  There  were  other  ways, 
therefore  and  however,  in  which  this  valuable  information 
in  the  major's  possession  might  be  put  to  use,  and  of 
these  was  the  major  thinking,  more  than  of  the  condi' 


196         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

tion  of  the  wounded  lad,  physical  or  spiritual,  as  home- 
ward through  the  gloaming  he  wended  his  way. 

Might  it  not  be  well  to  wait  until  this  important  and 
influential  personage  had  reached  the  post  before  proceed- 
ing further?  Might  it  not  be  well,  confidentially  and 
gradually,  as  it  were,  to  permit  the  Honorable  M.  C.  to 
know  that  grave  irregularities  had  occurred? — that  up 
to  this  moment  the  complete  knowledge  thereof  was  locked 
in  the  breast  of  the  present  post  commander? — that  the 
suppression  or  presentation  of  the  facts  depended  solely 
upon  that  post  commander?  and  then  if  the  member  of 
the  House  Committee  on  Military  Affairs  proved  recep- 
tive, appreciative,  in  fact  responsive,  might  not  the  ends 
of  justice  better  be  subserved  by  leaving  to  the  parent  the 
duty  of  personally  and  privately  correcting  the  son  ?  and, 
in  consideration  of  the  post  commander's  wisdom  and  con- 
tinence, pledging  the  influence  of  the  Military  Committee 
to  certain  delectable  ends  in  the  major's  behalf?  Long 
had  Flint  had  his  eye  on  a  certain  desirable  berth  in  the 
distant  East — at  the  national  capitol  in  fact — ^but  never 
yet  had  he  found  statesman  or  soldier  inclined  to  further 
his  desire.  That  night  the  major  bade  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Wilkins  hold  their  peace  as  to  Field's  peccadilloes  until 
further  leave  was  given  them  to  speak.  That  night  the 
major,  calling  at  Captain  Dade's,  was  concerned  to  hear 
that  Mrs.  Dade  was  not  at  home.  "  Gone  over  to  the 
hospital  with  Mrs.  Blake  and  the  doctor,"  was  the  ex- 
planation, and  these  gentle-hearted  women,  it  seems,  were 
striving  to  do  something  to  rouse  the  lad  from  the  slough 


NIGHT  PROWLING  AT  FRAYNE       197 

of  despond  which  had  engulfed  him.  That  night  ''  Pink  '* 
Marble,  Hay's  faithful  book-keeper  and  clerk  for  many  a 
year,  a  one-armed  veteran  of  the  civil  war,  calling,  as 
was  his  invariable  custom  when  the  trader  was  absent,  to 
leave  the  keys  of  the  safe  and  desks  with  Mrs.  Hay,  was 
surprised  to  find  her  in  a  flood  of  tears,  for  which  she  de- 
clined all  explanation;  yet  the  sight  of  Pete,  the  half 
breed,  slouching  away  toward  the  stables  as  Marble  closed 
the  gate,  more  than  suggested  cause,  for  '*  Pink  "  had 
long  disapproved  of  that  young  man.  That  night  Cra- 
paud,  the  other  stableman,  had  scandalized  Jerry  Sullivan, 
the  bar-keeper,  and  old  McGann,  Webb's  Hibernian  major 
domo,  by  interrupting  their  game  of  Old  Sledge  with  a 
demand  for  a  quart  of  whiskey  on  top  of  all  that  he  had 
obviously  and  surreptitiously  been  drinking,  and  by 
further  indulging  in  furious  threats,  in  a  sputtering  mix- 
ture of  Dakota  French  and  French  Dakota,  when  sum- 
marily kicked  out.  That  night,  late  as  twelve  o'clock, 
Mrs.  Ray,  aroused  by  the  infantile  demands  of  the  fourth 
of  the  olive  branches,  and  further  disturbed  by  the  sus- 
picious growlings  and  challenge  of  old  Tonto,  Blake's 
veteran  mastiff,  peeped  from  the  second  story  window  and 
plainly  saw  two  forms  in  soldier  overcoats  at  the  back 
fence,  and  wondered  what  the  sentries  found  about  Blake's 
quarters  to  require  so  much  attention.  Then  she  became 
aware  of  a  third  form,  rifle-bearing,  and  slowly  pacing 
the  curving  line  of  the  bluff — the  sentry  beyond  doubt. 
Who,  then,  were  these  others  who  had  now  totally  dis- 
appeared?   She  thought  to  speak  of  it  to  Nannie  in  the 


198  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

morning,  and  then  thought  not.  There  were  reasons  why 
nervous  alarm  of  any  kind  were  best  averted  then  from 
Mrs.  Blake.  But  there  came  reason  speedily  why  Mrs. 
Ray  could  not  forget  it. 

And  that  night,  later  still,  along  toward  four  o'clock, 
the  persistent  clicking  of  the  telegraph  instrument  at  the 
adjutant's  office  caught  the  ear  of  the  sentry,  who  in  time 
stirred  up  the  operator,  and  a  *'  rush  "  message  was  later 
thrust  into  the  hand  of  Major  Flint,  demolishing  a  day- 
old  castle  in  the  air. 

From  Rock  Creek,  Wyoming, 
October  23,  188—.    9:15  p.  m. 
Commanding  Officer,  Fort  Frayne, 
via  Fort  Laramie. 
Stage  capsized  Crook  Canon.    General  Field  seriously  injured. 
Have  wired  Omaha. 

(Signed)  Warner, 

Commanding  Camp. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

A    RIFLED    DESK 

EVENTS  moved  swiftly  in  the  week  that  followed. 
Particulars  of  the  accident  to  General  Field,  how- 
ever, were  slow  in  reaching  Fort  Frayne;  and,  to 
the  feverish  unrest  and  mental  trouble  of  the  son,  was 
now  added  a  feverish  anxiety  on  the  father's  account  that 
so  complicated  the  situation  as  to  give  Dr.  Waller  grave 
cause  for  alarm.  Then  it  was  that,  ignoring  every  pos- 
sible thought  of  misbehavior  on  the  part  of  the  young 
officer  toward  the  gentle  girl  so  dear  to  them,  not  only 
Mrs.  Blake  and  Mrs.  Ray,  but  Mrs.  Dade  herself,  in- 
sisted on  being  made  of  use, — insisted  on  being  per- 
mitted to  go  to  his  bedside  and  there  to  minister,  as 
only  women  can,  to  the  suffering  and  distressed.  Waller 
thought  it  over  and  succumbed.  The  lad  was  no  longer 
delirious,  at  least,  and  if  he  revealed  anything  of  what 
was  uppermost  in  his  mind  it  would  be  a  conscious  and 
voluntary  revelation.  There  were  some  things  he  had 
said  and  that  Waller  alone  had  heard,  the  good  old 
doctor  wished  were  known  to  certain  others  of  the  gar- 
rison, and  to  no  one  more  than  Mrs.  Dade;  and  so  the 
prohibition  against  their  visiting  the  wounded  lad  was 

J99 


200  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

withdrawn,  and  not  only  these,  but  other  women,  sym- 
pathetically attracted,  were  given  the  necessary  authority. 
There  was  other  reason  for  this.  From  the  command- 
ing officer  of  the  supply  camp  at  Rock  Springs  had  come, 
finally,  a  letter  that  was  full  of  foreboding.  General 
Field,  it  said,  was  sorely  injured  and  might  not  survive. 
If  the  department  commander  had  only  been  at  Omaha 
or  Cheyenne,  as  the  anxious  father  hastened  to  reach 
his  son,  the  mishap  would  never  have  occurred.  The 
general  would  gladly  have  seen  to  it  that  suitable  trans- 
portation from  the  railway  to  Frayne  was  afforded  his 
old-time  comrade.  But,  in  his  absence,  Field  shrank  from 
appealing  to  anyone  else,  and,  through  the  train  con- 
ductor, wired  ahead  to  Rock  Creek  for  a  stout  four-mule 
team  and  wagon,  with  a  capable  driver.  The  conductor 
assured  him  that  such  things  were  to  be  had  for  money, 
and  that  everything  would  be  in  readiness  on  his  arrival. 
Team,  wagon  and  driver  certainly  were  on  hand,  but  the 
team  looked  rickety,  so  did  the  wagon,  so  did  the  driver, 
who  had  obviously  been  priming  for  the  occasion.  It  was 
this  rig  or  nothing,  however ;  and,  in  spite  of  a  courteous 
remonstrance  from  the  two  officers  at  the  supply  camp, 
who  saw  and  condemned  the  "  outfit,"  General  Field 
started  on  time  and  returned  on  an  improvised  trestle 
three  hours  later.  The  "  outfit "  had  been  tumbled  over 
a  ledge  into  a  rocky  creek  bottom,  and  with  disastrous 
results  to  all  concerned  except  the  one  who  deserved  it 
most — the  driver.  The  ways  of  Providence  are  indeed 
inscrutable. 


A   RIFLED    DESK  20i 

A  surgeon  had  been  sent  from  Fort  Russell,  and  his 
report  was  such  that  Waller  would  not  let  it  go  in  full 
to  his  patient.  They  had  carried  the  old  soldier  back  to 
camp,  and  such  aid  as  could  be  given  by  the  rude  hands 
of  untaught  men  was  all  he  had  for  nearly  twenty-four 
hours,  and  his  suffering  had  been  great.  Internal  in- 
juries, it  was  feared,  had  been  sustained,  and  at  his 
advanced  age  that  was  something  almost  fatal.  No 
wonder  Waller  was  worried.  Then  Flint  took  alarm  at 
other  troubles  closer  at  hand.  Up  to  this  year  he  had 
been  mercifully  spared  all  personal  contact  with  our 
Indian  wards,  and  when  he  was  told  by  his  sentries  that 
twice  in  succession  night  riders  had  been  heard  on  the 
westward  "  bench,"  and  pony  tracks  in  abundance  had 
been  found  at  the  upper  ford — the  site  of  Stabber's  vil- 
lage— and  that  others  still  were  to  be  seen  in  the  soft 
ground  not  far  from  Hay's  corral,  the  major  was  more 
than  startled.  At  this  stage  of  the  proceedings,  Sergeant 
Crabb  of  the  Cavalry  was  the  most  experienced  Indian 
fighter  left  at  the  post.  Crabb  was  sent  for,  and  unflinch- 
ingly gave  his  views.  The  Sioux  had  probably  scattered 
before  the  squadrons  sent  after  them  from  the  north; 
had  fled  into  the  hills  and,  in  small  bands  probably,  were 
now  raiding  down  toward  the  Platte,  well  knowing  there 
were  few  soldiers  left  to  defend  Fort  Frayne,  and  no 
cavalry  were  there  to  chase  them. 

"  What  brings  them  here  ?  What  do  they  hope  to  get 
or  gain  ?  "  asked  Flint. 

''  I  don't  know,  sir,"  answered  Crabb.    "  But  this  I  do 


202         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

know,  they  are  after  something  and  expect  to  get  it.  If 
I  might  make  so  bold,  sir,  I  think  the  major  ought  to 
keep  an  eye  on  them  blasted  half  breeds  at  Hay's." 

It  set  Flint  to  serious  thinking.  Pete  and  Crapaud, 
paid  henchmen  of  the  trader,  had  been  taking  advantage 
of  their  employer's  absence  and  celebrating  after  the 
manner  of  their  kind.  One  of  his  officers,  new  like  him- 
self to  the  neighborhood  and  to  the  Indians,  had  had  en- 
counter with  the  two  that  rubbed  his  commissioned  fur 
the  wrong  way.  A  sentry,  in  discharge  of  his  duty,  had 
warned  them  one  evening  away  from  the  rear  gate  of 
a  bachelor  den,  along  officers'  row,  and  had  been  told  to 
go  to  sheol,  or  words  to  that  effect.  They  had  more 
business  there  than  he  had,  said  they,  and,  under  the 
potent  sway  of  "  inspiring  bold  John  Barleycorn  "  had 
not  even  abated  their  position  when  the  officer-of-the-day 
happened  along.  They  virtually  damned  and  defied  him, 
too. 

The  officer-of-the-day  reported  to  the  commanding  offi- 
cer, and  that  officer  called  on  Mrs.  Hay  to  tell  her  he 
should  order  the  culprits  off  the  reservation  if  they  were 
not  better  behaved.  Mrs.  Hay,  so  said  the  servant,  was 
feeling  far  from  well  and  had  to  ask  to  be  excused,  when 
who  should  appear  but  that  ministering  angel  Mrs.  Dade 
herself,  and  Mrs.  Dade  undertook  to  tell  Mrs.  Hay  of 
the  m.isconduct  of  the  men,  even  when  assuring  Major 
Flint  she  feared  it  was  a  matter  in  which  Mrs.  Hay  was 
powerless.  They  were  afraid  of  Hay,  but  not  of  her. 
Hearing  of  Mrs.  Hay's  illness,  Mrs.    Dade   and    other 


A    RIFLED    DESK  203 

women  had  come  to  visit  and  console  her,  but  there  were 
very  few  whom  she  would  now  consent  to  see.  Even 
though  confident  no  bodily  harm  would  befall  her  hus- 
band or  her  niece,  Mrs.  Hay  was  evidently  sore  dis- 
turbed about  something.  Failing  to  see  her,  Major  Flint 
sent  for  the  bartender  and  clerk,  and  bade  them  say  where 
these  truculent,  semi-savage  bacchanals  got  their  whiskey, 
and  both  men  promptly  and  confidently  declared  it  wasn't 
at  the  store.  Neither  of  them  would  give  or  sell  to  either 
half  breed  a  drop,  and  old  Wilkins  stood  sponsor  for 
the  integrity  of  the  affiants,  both  of  whom  he  had  known 
for  years  and  both  of  whom  intimated  that  the  two  speci- 
mens had  no  need  to  be  begging,  buying  or  stealing 
whiskey,  when  Bill  Hay's  private  cellar  held  more  than 
enough  to  fill  the  whole  Sioux  nation.  '*  Moreover,"  said 
Pink  Marble,  "  they've  got  the  run  of  the  stables  now  the 
old  man's  away,  and  there  isn't  a  night  some  of  those 
horses  ain't  out."  When  Flint  said  that  was  something 
Mrs.  Hay  ought  to  know.  Pink  Marble  replied  that  was 
something  Mrs.  Hay  did  know,  unless  she  refused  to 
believe  the  evidence  of  her  own  senses  as  well  as  his, 
and  Pink  thought  it  high  time  our  fellows  in  the  field 
had  recaptured  Hay  and  fetched  him  home.  If  it  wasn't 
done  mighty  soon  he.  Pink,  wouldn't  be  answerable  for 
what  might  happen  at  the  post. 

All  the  more  anxious  did  this  make  Flint.  He  decided 
that  the  exigencies  of  the  case  warranted  his  putting  a 
sentry  over  Hay's  stable,  with  orders  to  permit  no  horse 
to  be  taken  out  except  by  an  order  from  him,  and  Crabb 


204         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

took  him  and  showed  him,  two  days  later,  the  tracks  of 
two  horses  going  and  coming  in  the  soft  earth  in  front 
of  a  narrow  side  door  that  led  to  the  corral.  Flint  had 
this  door  padlocked  ?.t  once  and  Wilkins  took  the  key,  and 
that  night  was  surprised  by  a  note  from  Mrs.  Hay. 

"  The  stablemen  complain  that  the  sentries  will  not 
let  them  take  the  horses  out  even  for  water  and  exercise, 
which  has  never  been  the  case  before,"  and  Mrs.  Hay 
begged  that  the  restriction  might  be  removed.  Indeed, 
if  Major  Flint  would  remove  the  sentry,  she  would  assume 
all  responsibility  for  loss  or  damage.  The  men  had  been 
with  Mr.  Hay,  she  said,  for  six  years  and  never  had  been 
interfered  with  before,  and  they  were  sensitive  and  hurt 
and  would  quit  work,  they  said,  if  further  molested.  Then 
there  would  be  nobody  to  take  their  place  and  the  stock 
would  suffer. 

In  point  of  fact,  Mrs.  Hay  was  pleading  for  the  very 
men  against  whom  the  other  employes  claimed  to  have 
warned  her — these  two  halfbreeds  who  had  defied  his 
sentries, — and  Flint's  anxieties  materially  increased.  It 
taxed  all  his  stock  of  personal  piety,  and  strengthened  the 
belief  he  was  beginning  to  harbor,  that  Mrs.  Hay  had 
some  use  for  the  horses  at  night — some  sojourners  in  the 
neighborhood  with  whom  she  must  communicate,  and  who 
could  they  be  but  Sioux? 

Then  Mistress  McGann,  sound  sleeper  that  she  used  to 
be,  declared  to  the  temporary  post  commander,  as  he  was, 
and  temporary  lodger  as  she  considered  him,  tha^  things 
"  was  goin'  on  about  the  post  she'd  never  heard  the  likes 


A   RIFLED   DESK  205 

of  before,  and  that  the  meejor  would  never  put  up  with 
a  minute."  When  Mrs.  McGann  said  "  the  meejor  "  she 
meant  not  Flint,  but  his  predecessor.  There  was  but  one 
major  in  her  world, — the  one  she  treated  like  a  minor. 
Being  a  soldier's  wife,  however,  she  knew  the  deference 
due  to  the  commanding  officer,  even  though  she  did  not 
choose  to  show  it,  and  when  bidden  to  say  her  say  and 
tell  what  things  "  was  goin'  on  "  Mistress  McGann  as- 
severated, with  the  asperity  of  a  woman  who  has  had  to 
put  her  husband  to  bed  two  nights  running,  that  the  time 
had  never  been  before  that  he  was  so  drunk  he  didn't 
know  his  way  home,  and  so  got  into  the  back  of  the 
bachelor  quarters  instead  of  his  own.  "  And  to  think 
av  his  bein'  propped  up  at  his  own  gate  by  a  lousy,  frog- 
eatin'  half  Frinchman,  half  salvage !  "  Yet,  when  investi- 
gated, this  proved  to  be  the  case,  and  the  further  ques- 
tion arose,  where  did  McGann  get  his  whiskey  ?  A  faith- 
ful, loyal  devoted  old  servitor  was  McGann,  yet  Webb, 
as  we  have  seen,  had  ever  to  watch  his  whiskey  carefully 
lest  the  Irishman  should  see  it,  and  seeing  taste,  and 
tasting  fall.  The  store  had  orders  from  Mrs.  McGann, 
countersigned  by  Webb,  to  the  effect  that  her  husband 
was  never  to  have  a  drop.  Flint  was  a  teetotaller  him- 
self, and  noted  without  a  shadow  of  disapprobation  that 
the  decanters  on  the  sideboard  were  both  empty  the  very 
day  he  took  possession,  also  that  the  cupboard  was  se- 
curely locked.  Mrs.  McGann  was  sure  her  liege  got  no 
liquor  there  nor  at  the  store,  and  his  confused  statement 
that  it  was  given  him  by  "  fellers  at  the  stables,"  was 


2o6         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

treated  with  scorn.  McGann  then  was  still  under  marital 
surveillance  and  official  displeasure  the  day  after  Mrs.  Mc- 
Gann's  revelations,  with  unexplained  iniquities  to  answer 
for  when  his  head  cleared  and  his  legs  resumed  their  func- 
tions. But  by  that  time  other  matters  were  brought  to 
light  that  laid  still  further  accusation  at  his  door.  With 
the  consent  of  Dr.  Waller,  Lieutenant  Field  had  been 
allowed  to  send  an  attendant  for  his  desk.  There  were 
letters,  he  said,  he  greatly  wished  to  see  and  answer,  and 
Mrs.  Ray  had  been  so  kind  as  to  offer  to  act  as  his 
amanuensis.  The  attendant  went  with  the  key  and  came 
back  with  a  scared  face.  Somebody,  he  said,  had  been 
there  before  him. 

They  did  not  tell  Field  this  at  the  time.  The  doctor 
went  at  once  with  the  messenger,  and  in  five  minutes  had 
taken  in  the  situation.  Field's  rooms  had  been  entered 
and  probably  robbed.  There  was  only  one  other  occu- 
pant of  the  desolate  set  that  so  recently  had  rung  to  the 
music  of  so  many  glad  young  voices.  Of  the  garrison 
proper  at  Frayne  all  the  cavalry  officers  except  Wilkins 
were  away  at  the  front;  all  the  infantry  officers,  five  in 
number,  were  also  up  along  the  Big  Horn.  The  four 
who  had  come  with  Flint  were  strangers  to  the  post,  but 
Herron,  who  had  been  a  classmate  of  Ross  at  the  Point, 
moved  into  his  room  and  took  the  responsibility  of  intro- 
ducing the  contract  doctor,  who  came  with  them,  into  the 
quarters  at  the  front  of  the  house  on  the  second  floor. 
These  rooms  had  been  left  open  and  unlocked.  There 
was  nothing,  said  the  lawful  occupant,  worth  stealing, 


A  RIFLED   DESK  207 

which  was  probably  true;  but  Field  had  bolted,  inside, 
the  door  of  his  sleeping  room;  locked  the  hall  door  of 
his  living  room  and  taken  the  key  with  him  when  he 
rode  with  Ray.  The  doctor  looked  over  the  rooms  a 
moment ;  then  sent  for  Wilkins,  the  post  quartermaster, 
who  came  in  a  huff  at  being  disturbed  at  lunch.  Field 
had  been  rather  particular  about  his  belongings.  His  uni- 
forms always  hung  on  certain  pegs  in  the  plain  wooden 
wardrobe.  The  drawers  of  his  bureau  were  generally 
arranged  like  the  clothes  press  of  cadet  days,  as  though 
for  inspection,  but  now  coats,  blouses,  dressingsack  and 
smoking  jacket  hung  with  pockets  turned  inside  out  or 
flung  about  the  bed  and  floor.  Trousers  had  been  treated 
with  like  contempt.  The  bureau  looked  like  what  sailors 
used  to  call  a  ''  hurrah's  nest,"  and  a  writing  desk,  brass- 
bound  and  of  solid  make,  that  stood  on  a  table  by  a  front 
window,  had  been  forcibly  wrenched  open,  and  its  con- 
tents were  tossed  about  the  floor.  A  larger  desk, — a 
wooden  field  desk — stood  upon  a  trestle  across  the  room, 
and  this,  too,  had  been  ransacked.  Just  what  was  miss- 
ing only  one  man  could  tell.  Just  how  they  entered  was 
patent  to  all — through  a  glazed  window  between  the  bed- 
room and  the  now  unused  dining  room  beyond.  Just  who 
were  the  housebreakers  no  man  present  could  say;  but 
Mistress  McGann  that  afternoon  communicated  her 
suspicion  to  her  sore-headed  spouse,  and  did  it  boldly  and 
with  the  aid  of  a  broomstick.  "  It's  all  along,"  she  said, 
*'  av  your  shtoopin'  to  dhrink  wid  them  low  lived  salvages 
at  Hay's.     Now,  what  d'ye  know  about  this  ?  " 


2o8         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

But  McGann  swore  piously  he  knew  nothing  "  barrin' 
that  Pete  and  Crapaud  had  some  good  Hquor  one  night 
— dear  knows  when  it  was — an'  I  helped  'em  dhrink 
your  health, — an'  when  'twas  gone,  and  more  was  wanted, 
sure  Pete  said  he'd  taken  a  demijohn  to  the  lieutenant's, 
with  Mr.  Hay's  compliments,  the  day  before  he  left  for 
the  front,  and  sure  he  couldn't  have  drunk  all  av  it,  and 
if  the  back  dure  was  open  Pete  would  inquire  any- 
how." 

That  was  all  Michael  remembered  or  felt  warranted  in 
revealing,  for  stoutly  he  declared  his  and  their  innocence 
of  having  burglariously  entered  any  premises,  let  alone 
the  lieutenant's.  "  Sure  they'd  bite  their  own  noses  off 
fur  him,"  said  Mike,  which  impossible  feat  attested  the 
full  measure  of  halfbreed  devotion.  Mistress  McGann  de- 
cided to  make  further  investigation  before  saying  any- 
thing to  anybody;  but,  before  the  dawn  of  another  day, 
matters  took  such  shape  that  fear  of  sorrowful  conse- 
quences, involving  even  Michael,  set  a  ban  on  her  im- 
pulse to  speak.  Field,  it  seems,  had  been  at  last  induced 
to  sleep  some  hours  that  evening,  and  it  was  nearly  twelve 
when  he  awoke  and  saw  his  desk  on  a  table  near  the 
window.  The  attendant  was  nodding  in  an  easy  chair; 
and,  just  as  the  young  officer  determined  to  rouse  him, 
Mrs.  Dade,  with  the  doctor,  appeared  on  tiptoe  at  the 
doorway.  For  a  few  minutes  they  kept  him  interested 
in  letters  and  reports  concerning  his  father's  condition, 
the  gravity  of  which,  however,  was  still  withheld  from 
him.     Then    there    v/ere    reports    from    Tongue    River, 


A  RIFLED   DESK  209 

brought  in  by  courier,  that  had  to  be  told  him.  But  after 
a  while  he  would  be  no  longer  denied.  He  demanded 
to  see  his  desk  and  his  letters. 

At  a  sign  from  the  doctor,  the  attendant  raised  it  from 
the  table  and  bore  it  to  the  bed.  "  I  found  things  in 
some  confusion  in  your  quarters.  Field/'  said  Waller,  by 
way  of  preparation,  '*  and  I  probably  haven't  arranged  the 
letters  as  you  would  if  you  had  had  time.  They  were 
lying  about  loosely — " 

But  he  got  no  further.  Field  had  started  up  and  was 
leaning  on  one  elbow.  The  other  arm  was  outstretched. 
"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  cried.  "  The  desk  hasn't  been 
opened f  " 

Too  evidently,  however,  it  had  been,  and  in  an  instant 
Field  had  pulled  a  brass  pin  that  held  in  place  a  little 
drawer.  It  popped  part  way  out,  and  with  trembling 
hands  he  drew  it  forth — empty. 

Before  he  could  speak  Mrs.  Dade  suddenly  held  up 
her  hand  in  signal  for  silence,  her  face  paling  at  the  in- 
stant. There  was  a  rush  of  slippered  feet  through  the 
corridor,  a  hum  of  excited  voices,  and  both  Dr.  Waller 
and  the  attendant  darted  for  the  door. 

Outside,  in  the  faint  starlight,  sound  of  commotion 
came  from  the  direction  of  the  guard-house, — of  swift 
footfalls  from  far  across  the  parade,  of  the  vitreous  jar 
of  windows  hastily  raised.  Two  or  three  lights  popped 
suddenly  into  view  along  the  dark  line  of  officers'  quar- 
ters, and  Waller's  voice,  with  a  ring  of  authority  unusual 
to  him,  halted  a  running  corporal  of  the  guard. 


2  10         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

"What  is  it?"  demanded  he. 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,"  was  the  soldier's  answer.  "  There 
was  an  awful  scream  from  the  end  quarters — Captain 
Ray's,  sir."    Then  on  he  went  again. 

And  then  came  the  crack,  crack  of  a  pistol. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

BURGLARY    AT    BLAKE's 

THE  doctor  started  at  the  heels  of  the  corporal,  but 
was  distanced  long  before  he  reached  the  scene. 
The  sergeant  of  the  guard  was  hammering  on  the 
front  door  of  Blake's  quarters;  but,  before  the  summons 
was  answered  from  within,  Mrs.  Ray,  in  long,  loose  wrap- 
per, came  hurrying  forth  from  her  own — the  adjoining — 
hallway.  Her  face  was  white  with  dread.  "  It  is  I,  Nannie. 
Let  us  in,"  she  cried,  and  the  door  was  opened  by  a  terri- 
fied servant,  as  the  doctor  came  panting  up  the  steps. 
Together  he  and  Mrs.  Ray  hurried  in.  "  Robbers  !"  gasped 
the  servant  girl — ''  Gone — the  back  way !  "  and  collapsed 
on  the  stairs.  Sergeant  and  corporal  both  tore  around 
to  the  west  side  and  out  of  the  rear  gate.  Not  a  sign 
of  fugitives  could  they  see,  and,  what  was  worse,  not  a 
sign  of  sentry.  Number  5,  of  the  third  relief,  should 
at  that  moment  have  been  pacing  the  edge  of  the  bluff 
in  rear  of  the  northernmost  quarters,  and  yet  might  be 
around  toward  the  flagstaff.  **  Find  Number  5,"  were 
the  sergeant's  orders,  and  back  he  hurried  to  the  house, 
not  knowing  what  to  expect.    By  that  time  others  of  the 

guard  had  got  there  and  the  officer-of-the-day  was  com- 

211 


ai2  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

ing, — the  clink  of  his  sword  could  be  heard  down  the 
road, — and  more  windows  were  uplifted  and  more  voices 
were  begging  for  information,  and  then  came  Mrs.  Dade, 
breathless  but  calm. 

Within  doors  she  found  the  doctor  ministering  to  a  stout 
female  who  seemed  to  have  gone  off  in  an  improvised 
swoon — Mrs.  Blake's  imported  cook.  Up  the  stairs,  to 
her  own  room  again,  Mrs.  Blake  was  being  led  by 
Marion  Ray's  encircling  arm.  Three  women  were  speedily 
closeted  there,  for  Mrs.  Dade  was  like  an  elder  sister  to 
these  two  sworn  friends,  and,  not  until  Mrs.  Dade  and 
they  were  ready,  did  that  lady  descend  the  stairs  and 
communicate  the  facts  to  the  excited  gathering  in  the 
parlor,  and  they  in  turn  to  those  on  the  porch  in  front. 
By  this  time  Flint  himself,  with  the  post  quartermaster, 
was  on  hand,  and  all  Fort  Frayne  seemed  to  rouse,  and 
Mrs.  Gregg  had  come  with  Mrs.  Wilkins,  and  these  two 
had  relieved  the  doctor  of  the  care  of  the  cook,  now 
talking  volubly;  and,  partly  through  her  revelations,  but 
mainly  through  the  more  coherent  statements  of  Mrs. 
Dade,  were  the  facts  made  public.  Margaret,  the  cook, 
had  a  room  to  herself  on  the  ground  floor  adjoining  her 
kitchen.  Belle,  the  maid,  had  been  given  the  second  floor 
back,  in  order  to  be  near  to  her  young  mistress.  Bitzer, 
the  Blakes'  man-of-all-work, — like  McGann,  a  discharged 
soldier, — slept  in  the  basement  at  the  back  of  the  house, 
and  there  was  he  found,  blinking,  bewildered  and  only 
with  difKiculty  aroused  from  stupor  by  a  wrathful  ser- 
geant.    The   cook's   story,   in   brief,    was   that   she   was 


BURGLARY  AT   BLAKE'S  213 

awakened  by  Mrs.  Blake's  voice  at  her  door  and,  thinking 
Belle  was  sick,  she  jumped  up  and  found  Mrs.  Blake  in 
her  wrapper,  asking  was  she,  Margaret,  up  stairs  a  mo- 
ment before.  Then  Mrs.  Blake,  with  her  candle,  went 
into  the  dining  room,  and  out  jumped  a  man  in  his  stock- 
ing feet  from  the  captain's  den  across  the  hall,  and  knocked 
over  Mrs.  Blake  and  the  light,  and  made  for  her,  the 
cook;  whereat  she  screamed  and  slammed  her  door  in 
his  face,  and  that  was  really  all  she  knew  about  it. 

But  Mrs.  Blake  knew  more.  Awakened  by  some 
strange  consciousness  of  stealthy  movement  about  the 
house,  she  called  Belle  by  name,  thinking  possibly  the 
girl  might  be  ill  and  seeking  medicine.  There  was  sound 
of  more  movement,  but  no  reply.  Mrs.  Blake's  girlhood 
had  been  spent  on  the  frontier.  She  was  a  stranger  to 
fear.  She  arose;  struck  a  light  and,  seeing  no  one  in 
her  room  or  the  guest  chamber  and  hallway,  hastened  to 
the  third  room,  and  was  surprised  to  find  Belle  apparently 
quietly  sleeping.  Then  she  decided  to  look  about  the 
house  and,  first,  went  down  and  roused  the  cook.  As 
she  was  coming  out  of  the  dining  room,  a  man  leaped  past 
her  in  the  hall,  hurling  her  to  one  side  and  dashing  out 
the  light.  Her  back  was  toward  him,  for  he  came  from 
Gerald's  own  premises  known  as  the  den.  In  that  den, 
directly  opposite,  was  one  of  her  revolvers,  loaded.  She 
found  it,  even  in  the  darkness  and,  hurrying  forth  again, 
intending  to  chase  the  intruder  and  alarm  the  sentry  at 
the  rear,  encountered  either  the  sane  or  a  second  man 
close  to  the  back  door,  a  man  who  sprang  past  her  like 


214  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

a  panther  and  darted  down  the  steps  at  the  back  of  the 
house,  followed  by  two  shots  from  her  Smith  &  Wesson. 
One  of  these  men  wore  a  soldier's  overcoat,  for  the  cape, 
ripped  from  the  collar  seam,  was  left  in  her  hands.  An- 
other soldier's  overcoat  was  later  found  at  the  rear  fence, 
but  no  boots,  shoes  or  tracks  thereof,  yet  both  these  men, 
judging  from  the  sound,  had  been  in  stocking  feet,  or 
possibly  rubbers,  or  perhaps — but  that  last  suspicion  she 
kept  to  herself,  for  Mrs.  Hay,  too,  was  now  among  the 
arrivals  in  the  house,  full  of  sympathy  and  genuine  dis- 
tress. The  alarm,  then,  had  gone  beyond  the  guard-house, 
and  the  creators  thereof  beyond  the  ken  of  the  guard, 
for  not  a  sentry  had  seen  or  heard  anything  suspicious 
until  after  the  shots;  then  Number  8,  Flint's  latest  addi- 
tion, declared  that  from  his  post  at  Hay's  corral  he  had 
distinctly  heard  the  swift  hoofbeats  of  a  brace  of  ponies 
darting  up  the  level  bench  to  the  westward.  Number  5 
had  turned  up  safely,  and  declared  that  at  the  moment 
the  scream  was  heard  he  was  round  by  the  flagstaff, 
listening  to  the  night  chorus  of  a  pack  of  yelping  coyotes, 
afar  out  to  the  northwest,  and  then  he  thought  he  heard 
scrambling  and  running  down  at  the  foot  of  the  bluff 
just  as  the  shots  were  fired.  Investigation  on  his  part 
was  what  took  him  out  of  sight  for  the  moment,  and 
later  investigation  showed  that  one  marauder,  at  least, 
had  gone  that  way,  for  a  capeless  greatcoat  was  found 
close  down  by  the  shore,  where  some  fugitive  had  tossed 
it  in  his  flight.  This  overcoat  bore,  half  erased  from  the 
soiled  lining,  the  name  of  Culligan,  Troop  "  K ;  "  but 


BURGLARY  AT   BLAKE'S  215 

Culli^an  had  served  out  his  time  and  taken  his  discharge 
a  year  before.  The  other  overcoat  was  even  older,  an 
infantry  coat,  with  shorter  cape,  bearing  a  company  num- 
ber *'47,"  but  no  name.  Both  garments  savored  strongly 
of  the  stable. 

Then,  before  quiet  was  restored,  certain  search  was 
made  about  the  quarters.  It  was  found  the  intruders  had 
obtained  admission  through  the  basement  door  at  the 
back,  which  was  never  locked,  for  the  sentry  on  Number 
5  had  orders  to  call  Bitzer  at  5  130  a.  m.,  to  start  the  fires, 
milk  the  cow,  etc., — Hogan,  Ray's  factotum,  being  roused 
about  the  same  time.  The  marauders  had  gone  up  the 
narrow  stairway  into  the  kitchen,  first  lashing  one  end 
of  a  leather  halter-strap  about  the  knob  of  Bitzer's  door 
and  the  other  to  the  base  of  the  big  refrigerator, — a  need- 
less precaution,  as  it  took  sustained  and  determined  effort, 
as  many  a  sentry  on  Number  5  could  testify,  to  rouse 
Bitzer  from  even  a  nap. 

It  was  no  trick  for  the  prowlers  to  softly  raise  the 
trap  door  leading  to  the  kitchen,  and,  once  there,  the 
rest  of  the  house  was  practically  open.  Such  a  thing  as 
burglary  or  sneak  thieving  about  the  officers'  quarters 
had  been  unheard  of  at  Frayne  for  many  a  year.  One 
precaution  the  visitors  had  taken,  that  of  unbolting  the 
back  door,  so  that  retreat  might  not  be  barred  in  case 
they  were  discovered.  Then  they  had  gone  swiftly  and 
noiselessly  about  their  work. 

But  what  had  they  taken?  The  silver  was  upstairs, 
intact,  under  Mrs.  Blake's  bed;  so  was  the  little  safe  in 


2i6  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

which  was  kept  her  jewelry  and  their  valuable  papers. 
Books,  bric-a-brac, — everything  down  stairs — seemed  un- 
molested. No  item  was  missing  from  its  accustomed 
place.  Mrs.  Blake  thought  perhaps  the  intruders  had  not 
entered  her  room  at  all.  In  Gerald's  den  were  "  stacks," 
as  he  said,  of  relics,  souvenirs,  trophies  of  chase  and  war, 
but  no  one  thing  of  the  intrinsic  value  of  fifty  dollars. 
What  could  have  been  the  object  of  their  midnight  search  ? 
was  the  question  all  Fort  Frayne  was  asking  as  people 
dispersed  and  went  home, — the  doctor  intimatmg  it  was 
high  time  that  Mrs.  Blake  was  permitted  to  seek  repose. 
Not  until  he  had  practically  cleared  the  house  of  all  but 
her  most  intimate  friends,  Mrs.  Dade  and  Mrs.  Ray,  would 
Waller  permit  himself  to  ask  a  question  that  had 
been  uppermost  in  his  mind  ever  since  he  heard  her 
story. 

"  Mrs.  Blake,  someone  has  been  ransacking  Mr.  Field's 
quarters  for  letters  or  papers.  Now, — was  there  any- 
thing of  that  kind  left  by  the  captain  that — someone  may 
have  needed?" 

Nannie  Blake's  head  was  uplifted  instantly  from 
Marion's  shoulder.  She  had  been  beginning  to  feel  the 
reaction.  For  one  moment  the  three  women  looked  in- 
tently into  each  other's  faces.  Then  up  they  started  and 
trooped  away  into  Gerald's  den.  The  doctor  followed. 
The  upper  drawer  of  a  big,  flat-topped  desk  stood  wide 
open,  and  pretty  Mrs.  Blake  opened  her  eyes  and  mouth 
in  emulation  as  she  briefly  exclaimed — 

*' It's  gone!" 


BURGLARY   AT   BLAKE'S  217 

Then  Waller  went  forthwith  to  the  quarters  of  the 
commander  and  caught  him  still  in  conference  with  his 
quartermaster  and  the  guard,  four  or  five  of  the  latter 
being  grouped  without.  The  major  retired  to  his  front 
room,  where,  with  Wilkins,  he  received  the  doctor. 

"  Major  Flint,"  said  Waller,  '*  those  overcoats  belong 
to  Mr.  Hay's  stablemen, — Pete  and  Crapaud.  Will  you 
order  their  immediate  arrest  ?  " 

"  I  would,  doctor,"  was  the  answer,  "  but  they  are  not 
at  the  corral.  We  know  how  to  account  for  the  hoof- 
beats  in  the  valley.  Those  scoundrels  have  got  nearly  an 
hour's  start,  and  we've  nobody  to  send  in  chase." 

Then  it  presently  appeared  that  the  post  commander 
desired  to  continue  conference  with  his  staff  officer,  for 
he  failed  to  invite  the  post  surgeon  to  be  seated.  Indeed, 
he  looked  up  into  the  doctor's  kindling  eyes  with  odd 
mixture  of  impatience  and  embarrassment  in  his  own, 
and  the  veteran  practitioner  felt  the  slight,  flushed  in- 
stantly, and,  with  much  hauteur  of  manner,  took  prompt 
but  ceremonious  leave. 

And  when  morning  came  and  Fort  Frayne  awoke  to 
another  busy  day,  as  if  the  excitements  of  the  night  gone 
by  had  not  been  enough  for  it,  a  new  story  went  buzzing, 
with  the  first  call  for  guard  mount,  about  the  garrison ; 
and,  bigger  even  than  yesterday,  the  two  details,  in  soldier 
silence,  began  to  gather  in  front  of  the  infantry  quarters. 
Major  Flint  had  ordered  sentries  posted  at  the  trader's 
home,  with  directions  that  Mrs.  Hay  was  not  to  be  al- 
lowed outside  her  gate,  and  no  one,  man  or  woman,  per- 


2i8  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

mitted  to  approach  her  from  without  except  by  express 
permission  of  the  post  commander.  "  General  Harney  " 
and  "  Dan,"  the  two  best  horses  of  the  trader's  stable, 
despite  the  presence  of  the  sentry  at  the  front,  had  been 
abstracted  sometime  during  the  earlier  hours  of  the  night, 
and  later  traced  to  the  ford  at  Stabber's  old  camp,  and 
with  Pete  and  Crapaud,  doubtless,  were  gone. 

That  day  the  major  wired  to  Omaha  that  he  should  be 
reinforced  at  once.  One  half  his  little  force,  he  said,  was 
now  mounted  each  day  for  guard,  and  the  men  couldn't 
stand  it.  The  general,  of  course,  was  in  the  field,  but 
his  chief  of  staff  remained  at  headquarters  and  was  em- 
powered to  order  troops  from  post  to  post  within  the 
limits  of  the  department.  Flint  hoped  two  more  com- 
panies could  come  at  once,  and  he  did  not  care  what  post 
was  denuded  in  his  favor.  His,  he  said,  was  close  to 
the  Indian  lands, — separated  from  them,  in  fact,  only  by 
a  narrow  and  fordable  river.  The  Indians  were  all  on 
the  warpath  and,  aware  of  his  puny  numbers,  might  be 
tempted  at  any  moment  to  quit  the  mountains  and  con- 
centrate on  him.  Moreover,  he  was  satisfied  there  had 
been  frequent  communication  between  their  leaders  and 
the  household  of  the  post  trader  at  Fort  Frayne.  He 
was  sure  Mrs.  Hay  had  been  giving  them  valuable  in- 
formation, and  he  expected  soon  to  be  able  to  prove  very 
serious  charges  against  her.  Meantime,  he  had  placed 
her  under  surveillance.  (That  she  had  been  ever  since 
his  coming,  although  she  never  realized  it.)  Fancy  the 
sensation  created  at  Omaha,  where  the  Hays  were  well 


BURGLARY  AT   BLAKE'S  219 

known,  when  this  news  was  received !  FHnt  did  not  say 
**  under  arrest,"  guarded  day  and  night  by  a  brace  of 
sentries  who  were  sorely  disgusted  with  their  duty.  He 
had  no  doubt  his  appeals  for  more  troops  would  be 
honored,  in  view  of  his  strenuous  representations,  but 
the  day  passed  without  assurance  to  that  effect  and  with- 
out a  wired  word  to  say  his  action  regarding  Mrs.  Hay 
had  been  approved.  It  began  to  worry  him.  At  3 
p.  M.  Mrs.  Hay  sent  and  begged  him  to  call  upon  her  that 
she  might  assure  and  convince  him  of  her  innocence.  But 
this  the  major  found  means  to  refuse,  promising,  how- 
ever a  meeting  in  the  near  future,  after  he  had  received 
tidings  from  the  front,  which  he  was  awaiting  and  ex- 
pecting every  moment.  He  had  reluctantly  given  per- 
mission to  visit  her  to  Mrs.  Dade,  Mrs.  Ray  and  two  or 
three  other  women  whose  hearts  were  filled  with  sym- 
pathy and  sorrow,  and  their  heads  with  bewilderment, 
over  the  amazing  order.  Indeed,  it  was  due  to  Mrs. 
Dade's  advice  that  she  so  far  triumphed  over  pride  and 
wrath  as  to  ask  to  see  the  major  and  explain.  She  had 
received  tidings  from  her  husband  and  Nanette.  She 
was  perfectly  willing  to  admit  it, — ^to  tell  all  about  it, — 
and,  now  that  Pete  and  Crapaud  had  turned  out  to  be 
such  unmitigated  rascals,  to  have  them  caught  and  casti- 
gated, if  caught  they  could  be.  But  all  this  involved  no 
disloyalty.  They  had  always  been  friendly  with  the  Sioux 
and  the  Sioux  with  them.  Everybody  knew  it; — no  one 
better  than  General  Crook  himself,  and  if  he  approved 
why  should  a  junior  disapprove?     Indeed,  as  she  asked 


220  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

her  friends,  what  junior  who  had  ever  know^n  Mr.  Hay 
and  her,  or  the  Indians  either,  would  be  apt  to  disapprove 
so  long  as  the  Indians,  when  on  the  warpath,  received 
no  aid  or  comfort  from  either  her  husband  or  herself? 
"  And  if  they  had,"  said  she,  further,  waxing  eloquent 
over  her  theme,  "  could  we  have  begun  to  give  them  half 
the  aid  or  comfort — or  a  thousandth  part  of  the  supplies 
and  ammunition — they  got  day  after  day  through  the 
paid  agents  of  the  Interior  Department  ?  " 

But  these  were  questions  army  people  could  not  prop- 
erly discuss, — ^their  mission  in  life  being  rather  to  sub- 
mit to,  than  suggest,  criticism. 

And  so  another  restless  day  went  by  and  no  more 
news  came  from  either  front  or  rear — from  the  range 
to  the  north  or  Rock  Springs  at  the  south,  and  Flint  was 
just  formulating  another  fervid  appeal  to  that  impassive 
functionary,  the  adjutant  general  at  Omaha,  when  to- 
ward evening  word  came  whistling  down  the  line  in  the 
person  of  Master  Sanford  Ray,  that  two  couriers  were 
in  sight  "  scooting  "  in  from  Moccasin  Ridge,  and  Flint 
and  fully  half  the  soldier  strength  of  Fort  Frayne  gath- 
ered on  the  northward  bluff  like  the  "  wan  burghers  "  of 
ancient  Rome,  to  watch  and  speed  their  coming.  Who 
could  tell  what  the  day  might  yet  bring  forth? 

It  was  well  nigh  dark  before  the  foremost  reached  the 
ford — a  scout  in  worn  and  tawdry  buckskin,  wearied  and 
impassive.  He  gave  his  despatch  to  the  care  of  the  first 
officer  to  accost  him  and  took  the  way  to  the  store,  briefly 
saying  in  reply  to  questions,  that  he  was  "  too  dry  to 


BURGLARY   AT   BLAKE'S  2  2ir 

speak  the  truth."  So  they  flocked,  at  respectful  dis- 
tance, about  the  major  as  he  read  the  hurried  lines.  The 
general  bade  the  post  commander  wire  the  entire  mes- 
sage to  Washington,  and  to  take  all  precautions  for  the 
protection  of  the  few  settlers  about  him.  The  columns 
under  Colonel  Henry  and  Major  Webb  had  united  near 
the  head  waters  of  the  Clear  Fork  of  the  Powder;  had 
had  a  rattling  running  fight  with  Lame  Wolf's  people; 
had  driven  them  into  the  mountains  and  were  following 
hot  on  the  trail,  but  that  Stabber's  band  and  certain  dis- 
affected Sioux  had  cut  loose  from  the  main  body  and 
gone  south.  Whistling  Elk,  a  young  chief  of  much  ambi- 
tion had  quarrelled  with  certain  of  the  Red  Cloud  ele- 
ment, and  joined  Stabber,  with  his  entire  band.  "  Look 
out  for  them  and  watch  for  signals  any  day  or  night  from 
Eagle  Butte." 

Flint  read  with  sinking  heart.  Indian  fighting  was 
something  far  too  scientific  for  his  martial  education  and 
too  much  for  his  skeleton  command.  In  the  gathering 
dusk  his  face  looked  white  and  drawn,  and  old  Wilkins, 
breasting  his  way  up  the  slope,  puffed  hard,  as  he  begged 
for  news.  There  was  still  another  despatch,  however, 
which  was  evidently  adding  to  the  major's  perturbation, 
for  it  concerned  him  personally  and  for  the  moment  Wil- 
kins went  unheard. 

The  general  desires  that  you  send  the  couriers  back  within 
t>yenty-four  hours  of  their  arrival,  after  you  have  had  time  to 
scout  the  line  of  the  Platte  say  twenty  miles  each  way,  giving 
full  report  of  every  Indian  seen  or  heard  of.    He  enjoins  vigi- 


222  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

lanee  and  hopes  to  keep  the  Sioux  so  busy  that  they  can  send  no 
more  in  your  direction.  Should  they  do  so,  however,  he  will  pur- 
sue at  once.  He  trusts  that  you  are  doing  everything  possible 
to  comfort  and  reassure  Mrs.  Hay,  and  that  you  can  send  good 
news  of  Lieutenant  Field. 

And  this  when  he  had  just  refused  to  remove  the  sen- 
tries or  to  visit  Mrs.  Hay : — this  when  he  had  just  been 
told  by  Dr.  Waller  that  Lieutenant  Field  was  distinctly 
worse. 

**  He  is  simply  fretting-  his  heart  out  here/^  were  the 
doctor's  words  to  him  but  a  short  time  before,  "  and, 
while  unable  to  mount  a  horse,  he  is  quite  strong  enough 
now  to  take  the  trip  by  ambulance,  slowly,  that  is,  to 
Rock  Springs.  I  fear  his  father  is  failing.  I  fear  Field 
will  fail  if  not  allowed  to  go.  I  recommend  a  seven  days' 
leave,  with  permission  to  apply  to  Omaha  for  thirty — 
he'll  probably  need  it." 

"  I  can't  permit  government  teams  and  ambulances  to 
be  used  for  any  such  purpose,"  said  the  major,  stoutly, 
"  It  is  distinctly  against  orders." 

"  Then,  sir,  he  can  go  in  my  spring  wagon  and  we'll 
hire  mules  from  Mrs.  Hay,"  was  the  doctor's  prompt 
reply.  "  He  can  do  no  good  here,  major.  He  may  do 
much  good  there." 

But  Flint  was  full  of  information  and  official  zeal. 
The  matter  of  Field's  going  had  been  broached  before, 
and,  when  told  of  it,  the  Wilkins  pair  had  been  prompt 
with  their  protests.  "  Of  course  he'd  be  wantin'  to  get 
away,"  said  Wilkins,  *'  wid  all  that  money  to  account  for, 


BURGLARY  AT   BLAKE'S  223 

let  alone  these  other  things."  The  Irishman  was  hot 
against  the  young  West  Pointer  who  had  derided  him. 
He  doubtless  believed  his  own  words.  He  never  dreamed 
how  sorely  the  lad  now  longed  to  see  his  father, — ^how 
deep  was  his  anxiety  on  that  father's  account, — how  filled 
with  apprehension  on  his  own,  for  that  rifled  desk  had 
brought  him  reason  for  most  painful  thought.  Wilkins 
and  Field  had  been  antagonistic  from  the  start.  Neither 
could  see  good  in  the  other  and,  egged  on  by  his  worthy 
spouse's  exhortations,  the  quartermaster  had  seized  the 
opportunity  to  fill  the  post  commander's  too  receptive  mind 
with  all  his  own  suspicions — and  this  at  a  crucial  time. 
"  I  can't  listen  to  it.  Dr.  Waller,"  said  the  major, 
sternly.  "  Here's  a  matter  of  near  a  thousand  dollars  that 
young  man  has  got  to  answer  for  the  moment  he  is  well 
enough  to  stir.  And  if  he  can't  account  for  it — you  well 
know  what  my  duty  will  demand." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A    SLAP    FOR    THE    MAJOR 

THE  columns  of  Colonel  Henry  and  Major  Webb, 
as  said  "  the  Chief,"  had  united,  and  here  were 
two  men  who  could  be  counted  on  to  push  the 
pursuit  "  for  all  they  were  worth."  Hitherto,  acting  in 
the  open  country  and  free  from  encumbrance,  the  Indians 
had  been  hard  to  reach.  Now  they  were  being  driven 
into  their  fastnesses  among  the  mountains  toward  the 
distant  shelter  whither  their  few  wounded  had  been  con- 
veyed, and  where  the  old  men,  the  women  and  children 
were  in  hiding.  Now  it  meant  that,  unless  the  troops 
could  be  confronted  and  thrown  back,  another  transfer 
of  tepees  and  travois,  ponies  and  dogs,  wounded  and 
aged  would  have  to  be  made.  Lame  Wolf  had  thought 
his  people  safe  behind  the  walls  of  the  Big  Horn  and 
the  shifting  screen  of  warriors  along  the  foothills,  but 
the  blue  skirmish  lines  pushed  steadily  on  into  the  fring- 
ing pines,  driving  the  feathered  braves  from  ridge  to 
ridge,  and  Lame  Wolf  had  sense  enough  to  see  that  here 
were  leaders  that  "  meant  business  "  and  would  not  be 
held.  Henry  had  ten  veteran  troops  at  his  back  when 
he  united  with  Webb,  who  led  his  own  and  the  Beecher 

224 


A  SLAP  FOR  THE  MAJOR  225 

squadron,  making  eighteen  companies,  or  troops,  of 
Horse,  with  their  pack  mules,  all  out  at  the  front,  while 
the  wagon  train  and  ambulances  were  thoroughly  guarded 
by  a  big  battalion  of  sturdy  infantry,  nearly  all  of  them 
good  marksmen,  against  whose  spiteful  Springfields  the 
warriors  made  only  one  essay  in  force,  and  that  was  more 
than  enough.  The  blue  coats  emptied  many  an  Indian 
saddle  and  strewed  the  prairie  with  ponies,  and  sent 
Whistling  Elk  and  his  people  to  the  right  about  in  sore 
dismay,  and  then  it  dawned  on  Lame  Wolf  that  he  must 
now  either  mislead  the  cavalry  leader, — throw  him  off  the 
track,  as  it  were, — or  move  the  villages,  wounded,  prison- 
ers and  all  across  the  Big  Horn  river,  where  hereditary 
foemen,  Shoshone  and  Absaraka,  would  surely  welcome 
them  red-handed. 

It  was  at  this  stage  of  the  game  he  had  his  final  split 
with  Stabber.  Stabber  was  shrewd,  and  saw  unerringly 
that  w4th  other  columns  out — from  Custer  on  the  Little 
Horn  and  Washakie  on  the  Wind  River, — with  rein- 
forcements coming  from  north  and  south,  the  surround- 
ing of  the  Sioux  in  arms  would  be  but  a  matter  of  time. 
He  had  done  much  to  get  Lame  Wolf  into  the  scrape  and 
now  was  urging  hateful  measures  as,  unless  they  were 
prepared  for  further  and  heavier  losses,  the  one  way 
out,  and  that  way  was — surrender. 

Now,  this  is  almost  the  last  thing  the  Indian  will  do. 
Not  from  fear  of  consequences  at  the  hands  of  his 
captors,  for  he  well  knows  that,  physically,  he  is  in- 
tinitely  better  off  when  being  coddled  by  Uncle  Sam  than 


226  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

when  fighting  in  the  field.  It  is  simply  the  loss  of  prestige 
among  his  fellow  red  men  that  he  hates  and  dreads. 
Therefore,  nothing  short  of  starvation  or  probable  anni- 
hilation prompts  him,  as  a  rule,  to  yield  himself  a  prisoner. 
Stabber  urged  it  rather  than  risk  further  battle  and 
further  loss,  but  Stabber  had  long  been  jealous  of  the 
younger  chief,  envied  him  his  much  larger  following  and 
his  record  as  a  fighter,  and  Stabber,  presumably,  would 
be  only  too  glad  to  see  him  fallen  from  his  high  estate. 
They  could  then  enjoy  the  hospitality  of  a  generous 
nation  (a  people  of  born  fools,  said  the  unreasoning  and 
unregenerate  red  man)  all  winter,  and,  when  next  they 
felt  sufficiently  slighted  to  warrant  another  issue  on  the 
war-path,  they  could  take  the  field  on  equal  terms.  Lame 
Wolf,  therefore,  swore  he'd  fight  to  the  bitter  end. 
Stabber  swore  he'd  gather  all  his  villagers,  now  herding 
with  those  of  Wolf;  and,  having  segregated  his  sheep 
from  the  more  numerous  goats,  would  personally  lead 
them  whither  the  white  man  could  not  follow.  At  all 
events  he  made  this  quarrel  the  pretext  for  his  withdrawal 
with  full  five  score  fighting  men,  and  Lame  Wolf  cursed 
him  roundly  as  the  wretch  deserved  and,  all  short-handed 
now,  with  hardly  five  hundred  braves  to  back  him,  bent 
his  energies  to  checking  Henry's  column  in  the  heart  of 
the  wild  hill  country. 

And  this  was  the  situation  when  the  general's  first 
despatches  were  sent  in  to  Frayne, — this  the  last  news 
to  reach  the  garrison  from  the  distant  front  for  five  long 
days,  and  then  one  morning,  when  the  snow  was  sifting 


A  SLAP  FOR  THE  MAJOR  227 

softly  down,  there  came  tidings  that  thrilled  the  little 
community,  heart  and  soul — tidings  that  were  heard  with 
mingled  tears  and  prayers  and  rejoicings,  and  that  led  ta 
many  a  visit  of  congratulation  to  Mrs.  Hay,  who,  poor 
woman,  dare  not  say  at  the  moment  that  she  had  known  it 
all  as  much  as  twenty-four  hours  earlier,  despite  the  fact 
that  Pete  and  Crapaud  were  banished  from  the  roll  of  her 
auxiliaries. 

Even  as  the  new  couriers  came  speeding  through  the 
veil  of  falling  flakes,  riding  jubilantly  over  the  wide- 
rolling  prairie  with  their  news  of  victory  and  battle,  the 
post  commander  at  Fort  Frayne  was  puzzling  over  a 
missive  that  had  come  to  him,  he  knew  not  how,  mysteri- 
ous as  the  anarchists'  warnings  said  to  find  their  way 
to  the  very  bedside  of  the  guarded  Romanoffs.  Sentry 
Number  4  had  picked  it  up  on  his  post  an  hour  before 
the  dawn — a  letter  addressed  in  bold  hand  to  Major 
Stanley  Flint,  commanding  Fort  Frayne,  and,  presuming 
the  major  himself  had  dropped  it,  he  turned  it  over  to 
the  corporal  of  his  relief,  and  so  it  found  its  way  toward 
reveille  into  the  hands  of  old  McGann,  wheezing  about 
his  work  of  building  fires,  and  Michael  laid  it  on  the 
major's  table  and  thought  no  more  about  it  until  two 
hours  later,  when  the  major  roused  and  read,  and  then  a 
row  began  that  ended  only  with  the  other  worries  of  his 
incumbency  at  Frayne. 

Secretly  Flint  was  still  doing  his  best  to  discover  the 
bearer  when  came  the  bold  riders  from  the  north  with 
their  thrilling  news.     Secretly,  he  had  been  over  at  the 


228  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

guard-house  interviewing  as  best  he  could,  by  the  aid 
of  an  unwilling  clerk  who  spoke  a  little  Sioux,  a  young 
Indian  girl  whom  Crabb's  convalescent  squad,  four  in 
number,  had  most  unexpectedly  run  down  when  sent 
scouting  five  miles  up  the  Platte,  and  brought,  screaming, 
scratching  and  protesting  back  to  Frayne.  Her  pony  had 
been  killed  in  the  dash  to  escape,  and  the  two  Indians 
with  her  seemed  to  be  young  lads  not  yet  well  schooled 
as  warriors,  for  they  rode  away  pellmell  over  the  prairie, 
leaving  the  girl  to  the  mercy  of  the  soldiers.  Flint  be- 
lieved her  to  be  connected  in  some  way  with  the  coming 
of  the  disturbing  note,  which  was  why  he  compelled  her 
detention  at  the  guard-house.  Under  Webb's  regime  she 
would  have  been  questioned  by  Hay,  or  some  one  of  his 
houseliold.  Under  Flint,  no  one  of  Hay's  family  or  re- 
tainers could  be  allov/ed  to  see  her.  He  regarded  it  as 
most  significant  that  her  shrillest  screams  and  fiercest  re- 
sistance should  have  been  reserved  until  just  as  her 
guardians  were  bearing  her  past  the  trader's  house.  She 
had  the  little  light  prison  room  to  herself  all  that  wintry 
morning,  and  there,  disdainful  of  bunk  or  chair,  enveloped 
in  her  blanket,  she  squatted  disconsolate,  greeting  all 
questioners  with  defiant  and  fearless  shruggings  and  in- 
articulate protest.  Not  a  syllable  of  explanation,  not  a 
shred  of  news  could  their  best  endeavors  wring  from  her. 
Yet  her  glittering  eyes  were  surely  in  search  of  some  one, 
for  she  looked  up  eagerly  every  time  the  door  was  opened, 
and  Flint  was  just  beginning  to  think  he  would  have  to 
send  for  Mrs.  Hav  when  the  couriers  came  with  their 


A  SLAP  FOR  THE  MAJOR  219 

stirring  news  and  he  had  to  drop  other  affairs  in  order 
to  forward  this  important  matter  to  headquarters. 

Once  again,  it  seems,  Trooper  Kennedy  had  been  en- 
trusted with  distinguished  duty,  for  it  was  he  who  came 
trotting  foremost  up  the  road,  waving  his  despatch  on 
high.  A  comrade  from  Blake's  troop,  following  through 
the  ford,  had  turned  to  the  left  and  led  his  horse  up  the 
steep  to  the  quarters  nearest  the  flagstaff.  This  time  there 
was  no  big-hearted  post  commander  to  bid  the  Irishman 
refresh  himself  ad  libitum.  Flint  was  alone  at  his  office 
at  the  moment,  and  knew  not  this  strange  trooper,  and 
looked  askance  at  his  heterodox  garb  and  war- worn  guise. 
Such  laxity,  said  he  to  himself,  was  not  permitted  where 
he  had  hitherto  served,  which  was  never  on  Indian  cam- 
paign. Kennedy,  having  delivered  his  despatches,  stood 
mutely  expectant  of  question  and  struggling  with  an 
Irishman's  enthusiastic  eagerness  to  tell  the  details  of 
heady  fight.  But  Flint  had  but  one  method  of  getting 
at  facts — the  official  reports — and  Kennedy  stood  un- 
noticed until,  impatient  at  last,  he  queried : — 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  may  we  put  up  our  horses  ?  " 

"  Who's  we?  "  asked  the  major,  bluntly.  "  And  where 
are  the  others  ?  " 

"  Trigg,  sir — Captain  Blake's  troop.  He  went  to  the 
captain's  quarters  with  a  package." 

"  He  should  have  reported  himself  first  to  the  post 
commander,"  said  the  major,  who  deemed  it  advisable  to 
make  prompt  impression  on  these  savage  hunters  of 
savage  game. 


230  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

"  Thim  wasn't  his  ordhers,  surr,"  said  Kennedy,  with 
zealous,  but  misguided  loyalty  to  his  comrades  and  his 
regiment. 

"  No  one  has  a  right,  sir,  to  give  orders  that  are  con- 
trary in  spirit  to  the  regulations  and  customs  of  the 
service,"  answered  the  commander,  with  proper  austerity. 
"  Mr.  Wilkins,"  he  continued,  as  the  burly  quartermaster 
came  bustling  in,  "  have  the  other  trooper  sent  to  report 
at  once  to  me  and  let  this  man  wait  outside  till  I  am  ready 
to  see  him." 

And  so  it  happened  that  a  dozen  members  of  the  gar- 
rison gathered,  from  the  lips  of  a  participant,  stirring  par- 
ticulars of  a  spirited  chase  and  fight  that  set  soldiers  to 
cheering  and  women  and  children  to  extravagant  scenes 
of  rejoicing  before  the  official  head  of  the  garrison  was 
fairly  ready  to  give  out  the  news.  Kennedy  had  taken 
satisfaction  for  the  commander's  slights  by  telling  the 
tidings  broadcast  to  the  crowd  that  quickly  gathered,  and, 
in  three  minutes,  the  word  was  flying  from  lip  to  lip 
that  the  troops  had  run  down  Lame  Wolf's  main  village 
after  an  all  day,  all  night  rush  to  head  them  off,  and  that 
with  very  small  loss  they  had  been  able  to  capture  many 
of  the  families  and  to  scatter  the  warriors  among  the  hills. 
In  brief,  while  Henry,  with  the  main  body,  had  followed 
the  trail  of  the  fighting  band,  Webb  had  been  detached 
and,  with  two  squadrons,  had  ridden  hard  after  a  Sho- 
shone guide  who  led  them  by  a  short  cut  through  the 
range  and  enabled  them  to  pounce  on  the  village  where 
were  most  of  Lame  Wolf's  noncombatants,  guarded  only 


A  SLAP  FOR  THE  MAJOR  231 

by  a  small  party  of  warriors,  and,  while  Captains  Billings 
and  Ray  with  their  troops  remained  in  charge  of  these 
captives,  Webb,  with  Blake  and  the  others  had  pushed 
on  in  pursuit  of  certain  braves  who  had  scampered  into 
the  thick  of  the  hills,  carrying  a  few  of  the  wounded  and 
prisoners  with  them.  Among  those  captured,  or  recap- 
tured, were  Mr.  Hay  and  Crapaud.  Among  those  who 
had  been  spirited  away  was  Nanette  Flower.  This 
seemed  strange  and  unaccountable. 

And  yet  Blake  had  found  time  to  write  to  his  winsome 
wife, — to  send  her  an  important  missive  and  most  im- 
portant bit  of  news.  It  was  with  these  she  came  running 
in  to  Mrs.  Ray  before  the  latter  had  time  to  half  read 
the  long  letter  received  from  her  soldier  husband,  and 
we  take  the  facts  in  the  order  of  their  revelation. 

"  Think  of  it,  Maidie !  "  she  cried.  "  Think  of  it !  Ger- 
ald's first  words,  almost,  are  '  Take  good  care  of  that 
pouch  and  contents,'  and  now  pouch  and  contents  are 
gone!  Whoever  dreamed  that  they  would  be  of  such 
consequence?     He  says  the  newspaper  will  explain." 

And  presently  the  two  bonny  heads  were  bent  over  the 
big  sheets  of  a  dingy,  grimy  copy  of  a  Philadelphia  daily, 
and  there,  on  an  inner  page,  heavily  marked,  appeared  a 
strange  item,  and  this  Quaker  City  journal  had  been 
picked  up  in  an  Ogalalla  camp.    The  item  read  as  follows : 

AN    UNTAMED  SIOUX 

The  authorities  of  the  Carlisle  School  and  the  police  of  Harris- 
bnrg  are  hunting  high  and  low  for  a  young  Indian  known  to  the 
records  of  the  Academy  as  Ralph  Moreau,  but  borne  on  the  pay- 


232  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

rolls  of  Buffalo  Bill's  Wild  West  aggregation  as  Eagle  Wing — a 
youth  who  is  credited  with  having  given  the  renowned  scout- 
showman  more  trouble  than  all  his  braves,  bronchos  and  "  bust- 
ers "  thereof  combined.  Being  of  superb  physique  and  a  daring 
horseman,  Moreau  had  been  forgiven  many  a  peccadillo,  and  had 
followed  the  fortunes  of  the  show  two  consecutive  summers 
until  Cody  finally  had  to  get  rid  of  him  as  an  intolerable 
nuisance. 

It  seems  that  when  a  lad  of  eighteen,  "  Eagle  Wing  "  had  been 
sent  to  Carlisle,  where  he  ran  the  gamut  of  scrapes  of  every  con- 
ceivable kind.  He  spoke  English  picked  up  about  the  agencies; 
had  influential  friends  and,  in  some  clandestine  way,  received 
occasional  supplies  of  money  that  enabled  him  to  take  French 
leave  when  he  felt  like  it.  He  was  sent  back  from  Carlisle  to 
Dakota  as  irreclaimable,  and  after  a  year  or  two  on  his  native 
heath,  reappeared  among  the  haunts  of  civilization  as  one  of 
Buffalo  Bill's  warriors.  Bill  discharged  him  at  Cincinnati  and, 
at  the  instance  of  the  Indian  Bureau,  he  was  again  placed  at 
Carlisle,  only  to  repeat  on  a  larger  scale  his  earlier  exploits  and 
secure  a  second  transfer  to  the  Plains,  where  his  opportunities  for 
devilment  were  limited.  Then  Cody  was  induced  to  take  him  on 
again  by  profuse  promises  of  good  behavior,  which  were  kept 
until  Pennsylvania  soil  was  reached  two  weeks  ago,  when  he 
broke  loose  again ;  was  seen  in  store  clothes  around  West  Phila- 
delphia for  a  few  days,  plentifully  supplied  with  money,  and  next 
he  turned  up  in  the  streets  of  Carlisle,  where  he  assaulted  an 
attache  of  the  school,  whose  life  was  barely  saved  by  the  prompt 
efforts  of  other  Indian  students.  Moreau  escaped  to  Harris- 
burg,  which  he  proceeded  to  paint  his  favorite  color  that  very 
night,  and  wound  up  the  entertainment  by  galloping  away  on  the 
horse  of  a  prominent  official,  who  had  essayed  to  escort  him  back 
to  Carlisle.  It  is  believed  that  he  is  now  in  hiding  somewhere 
about  the  suburbs,  and  that  an  innate  propensity  for  devilment 
will  speedily  betray  him  to  the  clutches  of  the  law. 


A  SLAP  FOR  THE  MAJOR  233 

A  few  moments  after  reading  this  oddly  interesting 
story  the  two  friends  were  in  consultation  with  Mrs. 
Dade,  who,  in  turn,  called  in  Dr.  Waller,  just  returning 
from  the  hospital  and  a  not  too  satisfactory  visit  to  Mr. 
Field.  There  had  been  a  slight  change  for  the  better 
in  the  condition  of  General  Field  that  had  enabled  Dr. 
Lorain  of  Fort  Russell  and  a  local  physician  to  arrange 
for  his  speedy  transfer  to  Cheyenne.  This  had  in  a 
measure  relieved  the  anxiety  of  Waller's  patient,  but  never 
yet  had  the  veteran  practitioner  permitted  him  to  know 
that  he  was  practically  a  prisoner  as  well  as  a  patient. 
Waller  feared  the  result  on  so  high-strung  a  temperament, 
and  had  made  young  Field  believe  that,  when  strong  and 
well  enough  to  attempt  the  journey,  he  should  be  sent  to 
Rock  Springs.  Indeed,  Dr.  Waller  had  no  intention  of 
submitting  to  Major  Flint's  decision  as  final.  He  had 
written  personally  to  the  medical  director  of  the  depart- 
ment, acquainting  him  with  the  facts,  and,  meanwhile, 
had  withdrawn  himself  as  far  as  possible,  officially  and 
socially,  from  the  limited  circle  in  which  moved  his  per- 
turbed commanding  officer. 

He  was  at  a  distant  point  of  the  garrison,  therefore, 
and  listening  to  the  excited  and  vehement  comments  of 
the  younger  of  the  three  women  upon  this  strange  news- 
paper story,  and  its  possible  connection  with  matters  at 
Frayne,  at  the  moment  when  a  dramatic  scene  was  being 
enacted  over  beyond  the  guard-house. 

Kennedy  was  still  the  center  of  a  little  group  of  eager 
listeners  when  Pink  Marble^  factotum  of  the  trader's  store. 


234         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

came  hurrying  forth  from  the  adjutant's  office,  speedily 
followed  by  Major  Flint.  *'  You  may  tell  Mrs.  Hay  that 
while  I  cannot  permit  her  to  visit  the  prisoner,"  he  called 
after  the  clerk,  "  I  will  send  the  girl  over — under  suitable 
guard." 

To  this  Mr.  Marble  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
went  on.  He  fancied  Flint  no  more  than  did  the  relics 
of  the  original  garrison.  A  little  later  Flint  personally 
gave  an  order  to  the  sergeant  of  the  guard  and  then 
came  commotion. 

First  there  were  stifled  sounds  of  scuffle  from  the  in- 
terior of  the  guard-house ;  then  shrill,  wrathful  screams ; 
then  a  woman's  voice  unlifted  in  wild  upbraidings  in  an 
unknown  tongue,  at  sound  of  which  Trooper  Kennedy 
dropped  his  rein  and  his  jaw,  stood  staring  one  minute; 
then,  with  the  exclamation :  "  Mother  of  God,  but  I  know 
that  woman !  "  burst  his  way  through  the  crowd  and  ran 
toward  the  old  log  blockhouse  at  the  gate, — the  temporary 
post  of  the  guard.  Just  as  he  turned  the  corner  of  the 
building,  almost  stumbling  against  the  post  commander, 
there  came  bursting  forth  from  the  dark  interior  a  young 
woman  of  the  Sioux,  daring,  furious,  raging,  and,  break- 
ing loose  from  the  grasp  of  the  two  luckless  soldiers  who 
had  her  by  the  arms,  away  she  darted  down  the  road,  still 
screaming  like  some  infuriated  child,  and  rushed  straight 
for  the  open  gateway  of  the  Hays.  Of  course  the  guard 
hastened  in  pursuit,  the  major  shouting  ''  Stop  her!  Catch 
her !  "  and  the  men  striving  to  appear  to  obey,  yet  shirk- 
ing the  feat  of  seizing  the  fleeing  woman.     Fancy,  then, 


A  SLAP  FOR  THE  MAJOR  235 

the  amaze  of  the  swiftly  following  spectators  when  the 
trader's  front  door  was  thrown  wide  open  and  Mrs.  Hay 
herself  sprang  forth.  Another  instant  and  the  two  women 
had  met  at  the  gate.  Another  instant  still,  and,  with  one 
motherly  arm  twining  ab6ut  the  quivering,  panting, 
pleading  girl  and  straining  her  to  the  motherly  heart,  Mrs. 
Hay's  right  hand  and  arm  flew  up  in  the  superb  gesture 
known  the  wide  frontier  over  as  the  Indian  signal 
*'  Halt ! "  And  halt  they  did,  every  mother's  son  save 
Kennedy,  who  sprang  to  the  side  of  the  girl  and 
faced  the  men  in  blue.  And  then  another  woman's 
voice,  rich,  deep,  ringing,  powerful,  fell  on  the  ears 
of  the  amazed,  swift-gathering  throng,  with  the  mar- 
vellous order :  "  Stand  where  you  are !  You  shan't 
touch  a  hair  of  her  head!  She's  a  chief's  daughter. 
She's  my  own  kin  and  I'll  answer  for  her  to  the  gen- 
eral himself.  As  for  you,"  she  added,  turning  now 
and  glaring  straight  at  the  astounded  Flint,  all  the 
pent-up  sense  of  wrath,  indignity,  shame  and  wrong 
overmastering  any  thought  of  prudence  or  of  *'the 
divinity  that  doth  hedge"  the  commanding  oflficer, 
**  As  for  you,"  she  cried,  "  I  pity  you  when  our  own 
get  back  again!  God  help  you,  Stanley  Flint,  the 
moment  my  husband  sets  eyes  on  you.  D'you  know 
the  message  that  came  to  him  this  day?"  And 
now  the  words  rang  louder  and  clearer,  as  she 
addressed  the  throng.  "/  do,  and  so  do  officers  and 
gentlemen  who'd  be  shamed  to  have  to  shake 
hands  with  such  as  he.     He's  got  my  husband's  notQ 


236  A  DAUGllTEli  OF   lllE  SIOUX 

about  him  now,  and  what  my  husband  wrote  was 
this — *  I  charge  myself  with  every  dollar  you 
charge  to  Field,  and  with  the  further  obligation  of 
thrashing  you  on  sight ' — and,  mark  you,  he'll  do 
it!" 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE    SIOUX    SURROUNDED 

IN  the  hush  of  the  wintry  night,  under  a  leaden  sky, 
with  snowflakes  falUng  thick  and  fast  and  manthng 
the  hills  in  fleecy  white,  Webb's  column  had  halted 
among  the  sturdy  pines,  the  men  exchanging  muttered, 
low-toned  query  and  comment,  the  horses  standing  with 
bowed  heads,  occasionally  pawing  the  soft  coverlet  and 
sniffing  curiously  at  this  filmy  barrier  to  the  bunch  grass 
they  sought  in  vain.  They  had  feasted  together,  these  com- 
rade troopers  and  chargers,  ere  the  sun  went  down, — the 
men  on  abundant  rations  of  agency  bacon,  flour  and 
brown  sugar,  found  with  black  tailed  deer  and  mountain 
sheep  in  abundance  in  the  captured  village,  and  eked  out 
by  supplies  from  the  pack  train, — the  horses  on  big 
"  blankets  "  of  oats  set  before  them  by  sympathetic  friends 
and  masters.  Then,  when  the  skies  were  fairly  dark, 
Webb  had  ordered  little  fires  lighted  all  along  the  bank 
of  the  stream,  leaving  the  men  of  Ray's  and  Billings' 
troops  to  keep  them  blazing  through  the  long  night 
watches  to  create  the  impression  among  the  lurking  Sioux 
that  the  whole  force  was  still  there,  guarding  the  big  vil- 
lage it  had  captured  in  the  early  afternoon,  and  then,  in 

«37 


238  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

silence,  the  troopers  had  saddled  and  jogged  away  into 
the  heart  of  the  hills,  close  on  the  heels  of  their  guides. 

There  had  been  little  time  to  look  over  the  captures. 
The  main  interest  of  both  officers  and  men,  of  course, 
centred  in  Mr.  Hay,  who  was  found  in  one  of  the  tepees^ 
prostrate  from  illness  and  half  frantic  from  fever  and 
strong  mental  excitement.  He  had  later  tidings  from 
Frayne,  it  seems,  than  had  his  rescuers.  He  could  as- 
sure them  of  the  health  and  safety  of  their  wives  and 
little  ones,  but  would  not  tell  them  what  was  amiss  in 
his  own  household.  One  significant  question  he  asked : 
Did  any  of  them  know  this  new  Major  Flint  ?  No  ?  Well, 
God  help  Flint,  if  ever  he,  Hay,  got  hold  of  him. 

"  He's  delirious,"  whispered  Webb,  and  rode  away  in 
that  conviction,  leaving  him  to  Ray  and  Billings. 

Three  miles  out,  on  the  tortuous  trail  of  the  pursued, 
the  column  halted  and  dismounted  among  the  pines.  Then 
there  was  brief  conference,  and  the  word  "  Mount "  was 
whispered  along  the  Beecher  squadron,  while  Blake's  men 
stood  fast.  With  a  parting  clasp  of  the  hand  Webb  and 
*'  Legs  "  had  returned  to  the  head  of  their  respective 
commands,  "  Legs  "  and  his  fellows  to  follow  steadily  the 
Lidian  trail  through  the  twisting  ravines  of  the  foothills ; 
Webb  to  make  an  all-night  forced  march,  in  wide  detour 
and  determined  effort,  to  head  off  the  escaping  warriors 
before  they  could  reach  the  rocky  fastnesses  back  of  Bear 
Cliff.  Webb's  chief  scout  "  Bat,"  chosen  by  General 
Crook  himself,  had  been  a  captive  among  the  Sioux 
through  long  years  of  his  boyhood,  and  knew  the  Bi^ 


THE  SIOUX  SURROUNDED  239 

Horn  range  as  Webb  did  the  banks  of  the  Wabash. 
"  They  can  stand  off  a  thousand  soldiers,"  said  the  guide, 
**  if  once  they  get  into  the  rocks.  They'd  have  gone  there 
first  off  only  there  was  no  water.  Now  there's  plenty 
snow." 

So  Blake's  instructions  were  to  follow  them  without 
pushing,  to  let  them  feel  they  were  being  pursued,  yet 
by  no  means  to  hasten  them,  and,  if  the  general's  favorite 
scout  proved  to  be  all  he  promised  as  guide  and  path- 
finder, Webb  might  reasonably  hope  by  dint  of  hard  night 
riding,  to  be  first  at  the  tryst  at  break  of  day.  Then  they 
would  have  the  retreating  Sioux,  hampered  by  their  few 
wounded  and  certain  prisoners  whom  they  prized,  hemmed 
between  rocky  heights  on  every  side,  and  sturdy  horse- 
men front  and  rear. 

It  was  eight  by  the  watch  at  the  parting  of  the  ways. 
It  was  8  130  when  Blake  retook  the  trail,  with  Sergeants 
Schreiber  and  Winsor,  the  latter  borrowed  from  Ray,  far 
in  the  van.  Even  had  the  ground  been  hard  and  stony 
these  keen-eyed  soldier  scouts  could  have  followed  the 
signs  almost  as  unerringly  as  the  Indians,  for  each  had 
had  long  years  of  experience  all  over  the  West;  but,  de- 
spite the  steadily  falling  snow,  the  traces  of  hoofs  and, 
for  a  time,  of  travois  poles  could  be  readily  seen  and  fol- 
lowed in  the  dim  gray  light  of  the  blanketed  skies.  Some- 
where aloft,  above  the  film  of  cloud,  the  silvery  moon  was 
shining,  and  that  was  illumination  more  than  enough  for 
men  of  their  years  on  the  trail. 

For  over  an  hour    Blake  followed  the  windings  of  a 


240  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

ravine  that  grew  closer  and  steeper  as  it  burrowed  into 
the  hills.  Old  game  trails  are  as  good  as  turnpikes  in 
the  eyes  of  the  plainsman.  It  was  when  the  ravine  began 
to  split  into  branches  that  the  problem  might  have  puzzled 
them,  had  not  the  white  fleece  lain  two  inches  deep  on 
the  level  when  "  Lo  "  made  his  dash  to  escape.  Now  the 
rough  edges  of  the  original  impression  were  merely 
rounded  over  by  the  new  fallen  snow.  The  hollows  and 
ruts  and  depressions  led  on  from  one  deep  cleft  into  an- 
other, and  by  midnight  Blake  felt  sure  the  quarry  could 
be  but  a  few  miles  ahead  and  Bear  Cliff  barely  five  hours' 
march  away.  So,  noiselessly,  the  signal  "  Halt ! "  went 
rearward  down  the  long,  dark,  sinuous  column  of  twos, 
and  every  man  slipped  out  of  saddle — some  of  them  stamp- 
ing, so  numb  were  their  feet.  With  every  mile  the  air 
had  grown  keener  and  colder.  They  were  glad  when  the 
next  word  whispered  was,  "  Lead  on "  instead  of 
"  Mount." 

By  this  time  they  were  far  up  among  the  pine-fringed 
heights,  with  the  broad  valley  of  the  Big  Horn  lying 
outspread  to  the  west,  invisible  as  the  stars  above,  and 
neither  by  ringing  shot  nor  winged  arrow  had  the  lead- 
ers known  the  faintest  check.  It  seemed  as  though  the 
Indians,  in  their  desperate  effort  to  carry  off  the  most 
important  or  valued  of  their  charges,  were  bending  all 
their  energies  to  expediting  the  retreat.  Time  enough 
to  turn  on  the  pursuers  when  once  the  rocks  had  closed 
about  them, — when  the  wounded  were  safe  in  the  fast- 
nesses, and  the  pursuers  far  from  supports.    But,  at  the 


THE  SIOUX  SURROUNDED  241 

foot  of  a  steep  ascent,  the  two  leading  scouts, — rival  ser- 
geants of  rival  troops  but  devoted  friends  for  nearly 
twenty  years, — were  seen  by  the  next  in  column,  a  single 
corporal  following  them  at  thirty  yards'  distance,  to  halt 
and  begin  poking  at  some  dark  object  by  the  wayside. 
Then  they  pushed  on  again.  A  dead  pony,  under  a 
quarter  inch  coverlet  of  snow,  was  what  met  the  eyes  of 
the  silently  trudging  command  as  it  followed.  The  high- 
peaked  wooden  saddle  tree  was  still  "  cinched  "  to  the 
stiffening  carcass.  Either  the  Indians  were  pushed  for 
time  or  overstocked  with  saddlery.  Presently  there  came 
a  low  whistle  from  the  military  "  middleman ''  between 
the  scouts  and  a  little  advance  guard.  "  Run  ahead," 
growled  the  sergeant  commanding  to  his  boy  trumpeter. 
**  Give  me  your  reins."  And,  leaving  his  horse,  the 
youngster  stumbled  along  up  the  winding  trail;  got  his 
message  and  waited.  "  Give  this  to  the  captain,"  was  the 
word  sent  back  by  Schreiber,  and  "  this  "  was  a  mitten 
of  Indian  tanned  buckskin,  soft  and  warm  if  unsightly, 
a  mitten  too  small  for  a  warrior's  hand,  if  ever  warrior 
deigned  to  wear  one, — a  mitten  the  captain  examined 
curiously,  as  he  ploughed  ahead  of  his  main  body, 
and  then  returned  to  his  subaltern  with  a  grin  on  his 
face: 

"  Beauty  draws  us  with  a  single  hair,"  said  he,  "  and 
can't  shake  us  even  when  she  gives  us  the  mitten.  Ross," 
he  added,  after  a  moment's  thought,  "  remember  this. 
With  this  gang  there  are  two  or  three  sub-chiefs  that  we 
should  get,  alive  or  dead,  but  the  chief  end  of  man,  so 


242  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

far  as  *  K '  Troop's  concerned,  is  to  capture  that  girl^ 
unharmed." 

And  just  at  dawn,  so  gray  and  wan  and  pallid  it  could 
hardly  be  told  from  the  pale  moonlight  of  the  earlier 
hours,  the  dark,  snake-like  column  was  halted  again,  nine 
miles  further  in  among  the  wooded  heights.  With  Bear 
Cliff  still  out  of  range  and  sight,  something  had  stopped 
the  scouts,  and  Blake  was  needed  at  the  front.  He  found 
Schreiber  crouching  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  gazing  warily 
forward  along  a  southward-sloping  face  of  the  mountain 
that  was  sparsely  covered  with  tall,  straight  pines,  and 
that  faded  into  mist  a  fey^  hundred  yards  away.  The 
trail, — the  main  trail,  that  is, — seemed  to  go  straight  away 
eastward,  and,  for  a  short  distance,  downward  through 
a  hollow  or  depression;  while,  up  the  mountain  side  to 
the  left,  the  north,  following  the  spur  or  shoulder,  there 
were  signs  as  of  hoof  tracks,  half  sheeted  by  the  new- 
fallen  snow,  and  through  this  fresh,  fleecy  mantlet 
ploughed  the  trooper  boots  in  rude,  insistent  pursuit.  The 
sergeants'  horses  were  held  by  a  third  soldier  a  few 
yards  back  behind  the  spur,  for  Winsor  was  "  side  scout- 
ing "  up  the  heights. 

The  snowfall  had  ceased  for  a  time.  The  light  was 
growing  broader  every  moment,  and  presently  a  soft 
whistle  sounded  somewhere  up  the  steep,  and  Schreiber 
answered.  **  He  wants  us,  sir,"  was  all  he  said,  and  in 
five  minutes  they  had  found  him,  sprawled  on  his  stomach 
on  a  projecting  ledge,  and  pointing  southeastward,  where, 
boldly  outlined  against  the  gray  of  the  morning  sky,  a 


THE  SIOUX  SURROUNDED  243 

black  and    beetling    precipice    towered    from  the    mist- 
wreathed  pines  at  its  base.    Bear  Cliff  beyond  a  doubt ! 

"  How  far,  sergeant  ? "  asked  the  captain,  never  too 
reliant  on  his  powers  of  judging  distance. 

"  Five  miles,  sir,  at  least ;  yet  some  three  or  four 
Indians  have  turned  off  here  ahd  gone — somewhere  up 
there."  And,  rolling  half  over,  Winsor  pointed  again 
toward  a  wooded  bluff,  perhaps  three  hundred  feet  higher 
and  half  a  mile  away.  "  That's  probably  the  best  lookout 
this  side  of  the  cliff  itself ! "  he  continued,  in  explanation, 
as  he  saw  the  puzzled  look  on  the  captain's  face.  "  From 
there,  likely,  they  can  see  the  trail  over  the  divide — the 
one  Little  Bat  is  leading  the  major  and,  if  they've  made 
any  time  at  all,  the  squadron  should  be  at  Bear  Cliff 
now." 

They  were  crawling  to  him  by  this  time,  Blake  and 
Schreiber,  among  the  stunted  cedars  that  grew  thickly 
along  the  rocky  ledge.  Winsor,  flat  again  on  his  stomach, 
sprawled  like  a  squirrel  close  to  the  brink.  Every  mo- 
ment as  the  skies  grew  brighter  the  panorama  before 
them  became  more  extensive,  a  glorious  sweep  of  high- 
land scenery,  of  boldly  tossing  ridges  east  and  south  and 
west — the  slopes  all  mantled,  the  trees  all  tipped,  with 
nature's  ermine,  and  studded  now  with  myriad  gems, 
taking  fire  at  the  first  touch  of  the  day  god's  messenger, 
as  the  mighty  king  himself  burst  his  halo  of  circling  cloud 
and  came  peering  over  the  low  curtain  far  at  the  east- 
ward horizon.  Chill  and  darkness  and  shrouding  vapor 
vanished  all  in  a  breath  as  he  rose,  dominant  over  count- 


244  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

less  leagues  of  wild,  unbroken,  yet  magnificent  mountain 
landscape. 

"  Worth  every  hour  of  watch  and  mile  of  climb !  "  mut- 
tered Blake.  **  But  it's  Indians,  not  scenery,  we're  after. 
What  are  we  here  for,  Winsor  ?  "  and  narrowly  he  eyed 
Ray's  famous  right  bower. 

"If  the  major  got  there  first,  sir, — and  I  believe  he 
did, — they  have  to  send  the  prisoners  and  wounded  back 
this  way." 

"  Then  weVe  got  'em !  "  broke  in  Schreiber,  low-toned, 
but  exultant.  "  Look,  sir,"  he  added,  as  he  pointed  along 
the  range.     "  They  are  signalling  now." 

From  the  wooded  height  ten  hundred  yards  away,  curi- 
ous little  puffs  of  smoke,  one  following  another,  were 
sailing  straight  for  the  zenith,  and  Blake,  screwing  his 
field  glasses  to  the  focus,  swept  with  them  the  mountain 
side  toward  the  five-mile  distant  cliff,  and  presently  the 
muscles  about  his  mouth  began  to  twitch — sure  sign  with 
Blake  of  gathering  excitement. 

"  You're  right,  sergeant,"  he  presently  spoke,  repress- 
ing the  desire  to  shout,  and  striving,  lest  Winsor  should 
be  moved  to  invidious  comparisons,  to  seem  as  nonchalant 
as  Billy  Ray  himself.  "  They're  coming  back  already." 
Then  down  the  mountain  side  he  dove  to  plan  and  pre- 
pare appropriate  welcome,  leaving  Winsor  and  the  glasses 
to  keep  double  powered  watch  on  the  situation. 

Six-fifty  of  a  glorious,  keen  November  morning,  and 
sixty  troopers  of  the  old  regiment  were  distributed  along 
a  spur  that  crossed,  almost  at  right  angles,  the  line  of 


THE  SIOUX  SURROUNDED  245 

the  Indian  trail.  Sixty  fur-capped,  rough-coated  fellows, 
with  their  short  brown  carbines  in  hand,  crouching  behind 
rocks  and  fallen  trees,  keeping  close  to  cover  and  warned 
to  utter  silence.  Behind  them,  two  hundred  yards  away, 
their  horses  were  huddled  under  charge  of  their  disgusted 
guards,  envious  of  their  fellows  at  the  front,  and  cursing 
hard  their  luck  in  counting  off  as  number  four.  Schreiber 
had  just  come  sliding,  stumbling,  down  from  Winsor's 
perch  to  say  they  could  hear  faint  sound  of  sharp  volley- 
ing far  out  to  the  eastward,  where  the  warriors,  evidently, 
were  trying  to  "  stand  off  "  Webb's  skirmish  line  until 
the  travois  with  the  wounded  and  the  escort  of  the  pos- 
sible prisoners  should  succeed  in  getting  back  out  of 
harm's  way  and  taking  surer  and  higher  trail  into  the 
thick  of  the  wilderness  back  of  Bear  Cliff.  "  Some  of 
'em  must  come  in  sight  here  in  a  minute,  sir,"  panted  the 
veteran  sergeant.  "  We  could  see  them  plainly  up  there 
— a  mule  litter  and  four  travois,  and  there  must  be  a 
dozen  in  saddle." 

A  dozen  there  were,  for  along  the  line  of  crouching 
men  went  sudden  thrill  of  excitement.  Shoulders  began 
to  heave;  nervous  thumbs  bore  down  on  heavy  carbine 
hammers,  and  there  was  sound  of  irrepressible  stir  and 
murmur.  Out  among  the  pines,  five  hundred  yards  away, 
two  mounted  Indians  popped  suddenly  into  view,  two 
others  speedily  following,  their  well-nigh  exhausted  ponies 
feebly  shaking  their  shaggy,  protesting  heads,  as  their 
riders  plied  the  stinging  quirt  or  jabbed  with  cruel  lance; 
only  in  painful  jog  trot  could  they  zig  zag  through  the 


246  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

trees.  Then  came  two  warriors,  leading  the  pony  of  a 
crippled  comrade.  "  Don't  fire — Don't  harm  them !  Fall 
back  from  the  trail  there  and  let  them  in.  They'll  halt 
the  moment  they  see  our  tracks!  Get  'em  alive,  if  pos- 
sible ! "  were  Blake's  rapid  orders,  for  his  eyes  were 
eagerly  fixed  on  other  objects  beyond  these  dejected  lead- 
ers— upon  stumbling  mules,  lashed  fore  and  aft  between 
long,  spliced  saplings  and  bearing  thus  a  rude  litter — 
Hay's  pet  wheelers  turned  to  hospital  use.  An  Indian 
boy,  mounted,  led  the  foremost  mule;  another  watched 
the  second;  while,  on  each  side  of  the  occupant  of  this 
Sioux  palanquin,  jogged  a  blanketed  rider  on  jaded  pony. 
Here  was  a  personage  of  consequence — luckier  much 
than  these  others  following,  dragged  along  on  travois 
whose  trailing  poles  came  jolting  over  stone  or  hum- 
mock along  the  rugged  path.  It  was  on  these  that 
Blake's  glittering  eyes  were  fastened.  "  Pounce  on  the 
leaders,  you  that  are  nearest ! "  he  ordered,  in  low,  telling 
tones,  the  men  at  his  left;  then  turned  to  Schreiber, 
crouching  close  beside  him,  the  fringe  of  his  buckskin 
hunting  shirt  quivering  over  his  bounding  heart.  ''  There's 
the  prize  I  want,"  he  muttered  low.  **  Whatever  you  do, 
let  no  shot  reach  that  litter.  Charge  with  me  the  moment 
the  leaders  yell.  You  men  to  the  right,"  he  added,  slightly 
raising  his  voice,  "  be  ready  to  jump  with  me.  Don't 
shoot  anybody  that  doesn't  show  fight.  Nab  everything 
in  sight." 

"  Whoo-oop !  "    All  in  a  second  the  mountain  woke,  the 
welkin  rang,  to  a  yell  of  warning  from  the  lips  of  the 


!fe 


%.. 


Charge  with  Me  the  Moment  the  Leaders  Yell. 


THE  SIOUX  SURROUNDED  247 

leading  Sioux.  All  in  a  second  they  whirled  their  ponies 
about  and  darted  back.  All  in  that  second  Blake  and  his 
nearmost  sprang  to  their  feet  and  flung  themselves  for- 
ward straight  for  the  startled  convoy.  In  vain  the  few 
warriors  bravely  rallied  about  their  foremost  wounded, 
the  unwieldy  litter  could  not  turn  about;  the  frantic 
mules,  crazed  by  the  instant  pandemonium  of  shouts  and 
shots, — the  onward  rush  of  charging  men, — the  awful 
screams  of  a  brace  of  squaws,  broke  from  their  leading 
reins ;  crashed  with  their  litter  against  the  trees,  hurling 
the  luckless  occupant  to  earth.  Back  drove  the  unhit 
warriors  before  the  dash  of  the  cheering  line.  Down 
went  first  one  pony,  then  a  second,  in  his  bloody  tracks. 
One  after  another,  litter,  travois,  wounded  and  prisoner, 
was  clutched  and  seized  by  stalwart  hands,  and  Blake, 
panting  not  a  little,  found  himself  bending  staring  over 
the  prostrate  form  flung  from  the  splintered  wreck  of  the 
litter,  a  form  writhing  in  pain  that  forced  no  sound  what- 
ever from  between  grimly  clinching  teeth,  yet  that  baffled 
effort,  almost  superb,  to  rise  and  battle  still — a  form  mag- 
nificent in  its  proportions,  yet  helpless  through  wounds 
and  weakness.  Not  the  form  Blake  thought  to  see,  of 
shrinking,  delicate,  dainty  woman,  but  that  of  the  furious 
warrior  who  thrice  had  dared  him  on  the  open  field — the 
red  brave  well  known  to  him  by  sight  and  deed  within 
the  moon  now  waning,  but,  only  within  the  day  gone  by, 
revealed  to  him  as  the  renegade  Ralph  Moreau, — Eagle 
Wing  of  the  Ogalalla  Sioux. 
Where  then  was  Nanette? 


24«         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

"  Look  out  for  this  man,  corporal  1 "  he  called,  to  a 
shouting  young  trooper.  "  See  that  no  harm  comes  to 
him."  Then  quickly  he  ran  on  to  the  huddle  of  travois. 
Something  assured  him  she  could  not  be  far  away.  The 
first  drag  litter  held  another  young  warrior,  sullen  and 
speechless  like  the  foremost.  The  next  bore  a  desperately 
wounded  brave  whose  bloodless  lips  were  compressed  in 
agony  and  dumb  as  those  of  the  dead.  About  these  cow- 
ered, shivering  xand  whimpering,  two  or  three  terror- 
stricken  squaws,  one  of  them  with  a  round-eyed  pappoose 
staring  at  her  back.  A  pony  lay  struggling  in  the  snow 
close  by.  Half  a  dozen  rough  soldier  hands  were  dragging 
a  stricken  rider  from  underreath.  Half  a  dozen  more  were 
striving  to  control  the  wild  plungings  of  another  mettle- 
some little  beast,  whose  rider,  sitting  firmly  astride,  lashed 
first  at  his  quivering  flank  and  then  at  the  fur  gauntleted 
hands, — even  at  the  laughing,  bearded  faces — sure  sign  of 
another  squaw,  and  a  game  one.  Far  out  to  the  front 
the  crackle  of  carbine  and  rifle  told  that  Webb  was  driv- 
ing the  scattered  braves  before  him, — that  the  comrade 
squadron  was  coming  their  way, — that  Bear  Cliff  had  been 
sought  by  the  Sioux  in  vain, — that  Indian  wiles  and 
strategy,  Indian  pluck  and  staying  power,  all  had  more 
than  met  their  match.  Whatever  the  fate  of  Lame  Wolf's 
fighting  force,  now  pressed  by  Henry's  column,  far  in 
the  southward  hills,  here  in  sight  of  the  broad  Big  Horn 
valley,  the  white  chief  had  struck  a  vital  blow.  Vilb,c:e, 
villagers,  wounded  and  prisoners  were  all  the  spoil  of  the 
hated  soldiery.    Here  at  the  scene  of  Blake's  minor  affair 


THE  SIOUX  SURROUNDED  249 

there  appeared  still  in  saddle  just  one  undaunted,  uncon- 
quered  amazon  whose  black  eyes  flashed  through  the 
woolen  hood  that  hid  the  rest  of  her  face,  whose  lips  had 
uttered  as  yet  no  sound,  but  from  whom  two  soldiers 
recoiled  at  the  cry  of  a  third.  **  Look  at  the  hand  of  her, 
fellers  1     It's  whiter  than  mine !  " 

"  That's  all  right,  Lanigan,"  answered  the  jovial  voice 
of  the  leader  they  loved  and  laughed  with.  "  Hold  that 
pony  steady.  Now,  by  your  ladyship's  leave,"  and  two 
long,  sinewy  arms  went  circling  about  the  shrinking 
rider's  waist,  and  a  struggling  form  was  lifted  straight- 
way out  of  saddle  and  deposited,  not  too  gracefully,  on 
its  moccasined  feet.  "  We  will  remove  this  one  impedi- 
ment to  your  speech,"  continued  Blake,  whereat  the 
muffling  worsted  was  swiftly  unwound,  "  and  then  we  will 
listen  to  our  meed  of  thanks.  Ah,  no  wonder  you  did 
not  need  a  side-saddle  that  night  at  Frayne.  You  ride 
admirably  a  calif ourchon.  My  compliments.  Mademoi- 
selle LaFleur;  or  should  I  say — Madame  Moreau." 

For  all  answer  Blake  received  one  quick,  stinging  slap 
in  the  face  from  that  niittenless  little  right  hand. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THANKSGIVING    AT    FRAYNE 

THANKSGIVING  Day  at  Frayne !  Much  of  the 
garrison  was  still  afield,  bringing  back  to  their 
lines  and,  let  us  hope,  to  their  senses,  the  rem- 
nant of  Stabber's  band,  chased  far  into  the  Sweetwater 
Hills  before  they  would  stop,  while  Henry's  column  kept 
Lame  Wolf  in  such  active  movement  the  misnamed  chief- 
tain richly  won  his  later  sobriquet  "  The  Skipper."  The 
general  had  come  whirling  back  from  Beecher  in  his  Con- 
cord wagon,  to  meet  Mr.  Hay  as  they  bore  that  invalid 
homeward  from  the  Big  Horn.  Between  the  fever-weak- 
ened trader  and  the  famous  frontier  soldier  there  had  been 
brief  conference — all  that  the  doctors  felt  they  could  allow 
— and  then  the  former  had  been  put  to  bed  under  the  care 
of  his  devoted  wife,  while  the  latter,  without  so  much  as 
sight  of  a  pillow,  had  set  forth  again  out  Sweetwater  way 
to  wind  up  the  campaign.  This  time  he  went  in  saddle, 
sending  his  own  team  over  the  range  of  the  Medicine  Bow 
to  carry  a  convalescent  subaltern  to  the  side  of  a  stricken 
father;  the  sender  ignorant,  possibly,  of  the  post  com- 
mander's prohibition;  ignoring  it,  if,  as  probable,  it  was 

known  to  him.    The  good  old  doctor  himself  had  bundled 

250 


THANKSGIVING  AT  FRAYNE         251 

the  grateful  lad  and  sent  a  special  hospital  attendant  with 
him.  Mrs.  Dade  and  her  devoted  allies  up  the  row  had 
filled  with  goodies  a  wonderful  luncheon  basket,  while 
Mrs.  Hay  had  sent  stores  of  wine  for  the  use  of  both  in- 
valids, and  had  come  down  herself  to  see  the  start,  for, 
without  a  word  indicative  of  reproof,  the  general  had 
bidden  Flint  remove  the  blockade,  simply  saying  he  would 
assume  all  responsibility,  both  for  Mrs.  Hay  and  the 
young  Indian  girl,  given  refuge  under  the  trader's  roof 
until  the  coming  of  her  own  people  still  out  with  Stabber's 
band.    Flint  could  not  fathom  it.    He  could  only  obey. 

And  now,  with  the  general  gone  and  Beverly  Field 
away,  with  Hay  home  and  secluded,  by  order,  from  all 
questioning  or  other  extraneous  worry ;  with  the  wounded 
soldiers  safely  trundled  into  hospital,  garrison  interest 
seemed  to  centre  for  the  time  mainly  in  that  little  Ogalalla 
maid — Flint's  sole  Sioux  captive — who  was  housed,  said 
the  much  interrogated  domestic,  in  Mrs.  Hay's  own  room 
instead  of  Miss  Flower's,  while  the  lady  of  the  house, 
when  she  slept  at  all,  occupied  a  sofa  near  her  husband's 
bedside. 

Then  came  the  tidings  tliat  Blake,  with  the  prisoners 
from  No  Wood  Creek  and  Bear  Cliff  was  close  at  hand, 
and  everybody  looked  with  eager  eyes  for  the  coming 
across  the  snowy  prairie  of  that  homeward  bound  convoy 
— that  big  village  of  the  Sioux,  with  its  distinguished  cap- 
tives, wounded  and  unwounded;  one  of  the  former,  the 
young  sub-chief  Eagle  Wing,  alias  Moreau ; — one  of  the 
latter  a  self-constituted  martyr,  since  she  was  under  no 


252  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

official  restraint, — Nanette  Flower,  hovering  ever  about 
the  litter  bearing  that  sullen  and  still  defiant  brave,  whose 
side  she  refused  to  leave. 

Not  until  they  reached  Fort  Frayne ;  not  until  the  sur- 
geon, after  careful  examination,  declared  there  was  no 
need  of  taking  Moreau  into  hospital, — no  reason  why  he 
should  not  be  confined  in  the  prison  room  of  the  guard- 
house,— were  they  able  to  induce  the  silent,  almost  des- 
perate girl  to  return  to  her  aunt.  Not  until  Nanette 
realized  that  her  warrior  was  to  be  housed  within  wooden 
walls  whence  she  would  be  excluded,  could  Mrs.  Hay, 
devoted  to  the  last,  persuade  the  girl  to  reoccupy  her  old 
room  and  to  resume  the  dress  of  civilization.  Barring 
that  worsted  hood,  she  was  habited  like  a  chieftain's 
daughter,  in  gaily  beaded  and  embroidered  garments, 
when  recaptured  by  Blake's  command.  Once  within  the 
trader's  door,  she  had  shut  herself  in  her  old  room,  the 
second  floor  front,  refusing  to  see  anybody  from  outside 
the  house,  unless  she  could  be  permitted  to  receive  visits 
from  the  captive  Sioux,  and  this  the  major,  flintily,  fore- 
bade.  It  was  nightfall  when  the  litter-bearers  reached  the 
post,  Hay's  rejoicing  mules  braying  unmelodious  ecstasy 
at  sight  of  their  old  stable.  It  was  dark  when  the 
wounded  chief  was  borne  into  the  guard-house,  uttering 
not  a  sound,  and  Nanette  was  led  within  the  trader's 
door,  yet  someone  had  managed  to  see  her  face,  for  the 
story  went  all  over  the  wondering  post  that  very  night, — 
women  flitting  with  it  from  door  to  door, — that  every 
vestige  of  her  beauty  was  gone; — she  looked  at  least  a 


THANKSGIVING  AT   FRAYNE         253 

dozen  years  older.  Blake,  when  questioned,  after  the  first 
rapture  of  the  home-coming  had  subsided,  would  neither 
affirm  nor  deny.  **  She  would  neither  speak  to  me  nor 
harken,"  said  he,  whimsically.  "  The  only  thing  she 
showed  was  teeth  and — temper." 

Then  presently  they  sent  a  lot  of  the  Sioux — Stabber's 
villagers  and  Lame  Wolf's  combined, — by  easy  stages 
down  the  Platte  to  Laramie,  and  then  around  by  Rawhide 
and  the  Niobrara  to  the  old  Red  Cloud  agency,  there  to 
be  fed  and  coddled  and  cared  for,  wounded  warriors  and 
all,  except  a  certain  few,  including  this  accomplished 
orator  and  chieftain,  convalescing  under  guard  at  Frayne. 
About  his  case  there  hung  details  and  complications  far 
too  many  and  intricate  to  be  settled  short  of  a  commission. 
Already  had  the  tidings  of  this  most  important  capture 
reached  the  distant  East.  Already  both  Indian  Bureau 
and  Peace  Societies  had  begun  to  wire  the  general  in  the 
field  and  *'  work  "  the  President  and  the  Press  at  home. 
Forgotten  was  the  fact  that  he  had  been  an  intolerable 
nuisance  to  Buffalo  Bill  and  others  who  had  undertaken 
to  educate  and  civilize  him.  The  Wild  West  Show  was 
now  amazing  European  capitals  and,  therefore,  beyond 
consulting  distance.  Forgotten  were  escapades  at  Harris- 
burg,  Carlisle  and  Philadelphia.  Suppressed  were  circum- 
stances connecting  him  with  graver  charges  than  those 
of  repeated  roistering  and  aggravated  assault.  Ignored, 
or  as  yet  unheard,  were  the  details  of  his  reappearance  on 
the  frontier  in  time  to  stir  up  most  of  the  war  spirit 
developed  that  September,  and  to  take  a  leading  part 


254  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

in  the  fierce  campaign  that  followed.  He  was  a  pupil  of 
the  nation,  said  the  good  people  of  the  Indian  Friends 
Societies — a  youth  of  exceptional  intelligence  and  promise, 
a  son  of  the  Sioux  whose  influence  would  be  of  priceless 
value  could  he  be  induced  to  complete  his  education  and 
accept  the  views  and  projects  of  his  eastern  admirers. 
It  would  never  do  to  let  his  case  be  settled  by  soldiers, 
settlers  and  cowboys,  said  philanthropy.  They  would 
hang  him,  starve  him,  break  his  spirit  at  the  very  least. 
(They  were  treating  him  particularly  well  just  now,  as 
he  had  sense  enough  to  see.)  There  must  be  a  deputa- 
tion,— a  committee  to  go  out  at  once  to  the  West,  with 
proper  credentials,  per  diem,  mileage  and  clerks,  to  see  to 
it  that  these  unfortunate  children  of  the  mountain  and 
prairie  were  accorded  fair  treatment  and  restored  to  their 
rights,  especially  this  brilliant  young  man  Moreau.  The 
general  was  beyond  reach  and  reasoning  with,  but  there 
was  Flint,  eminent  for  his  piety,  and  untrammelled  in  com- 
mand; Flint,  with  aspirations  of  his  own,  the  very  man 
to  welcome  such  influence  as  theirs,  and,  correspondingly, 
to  give  ear  to  their  propositions.  Two  days  after  the  safe 
lodgment  of  Eagle  Wing  behind  the  bars,  the  telegrams 
were  coming  by  dozens,  and  one  week  after  that  deserved 
incarceration  Fort  Frayne  heard  with  mild  bewilderment 
the  major's  order  for  Moreau's  transfer  to  the  hospital. 
By  that  time  letters,  too,  were  beginning  to  come,  and, 
two  nights  after  this  removal  to  the  little  room  but  lately 
occupied  by  Lieutenant  Field — this  very  Thanksgiving 
night;  in  fact, — the  single  sentry  at  the  door  stood  at.-^ 


THANKSGIVING  AT  FRAYNE        255 

tention  to  the  commanding  officer,  who  in  person  ushered 
in  a  womanly  form  enveloped  in  hooded  cloak,  and  with 
bowed  head  Nanette  Flower  passed  within  the  guarded 
portal,  which  then  closed  behind  her  and  left  her  alone 
with  her  wounded  brave. 

Blake  and  Billings  had  been  sent  on  to  Red  Cloud, 
guarding  the  presumably  repentant  Ogalallas.  Webb, 
Ray,  Gregg  and  Ross  were  still  afield,  in  chase  of  Stabber. 
Dade,  with  four  companies  of  infantry,  was  in  the  Big 
Horn  guarding  Henry's  wagon  train.  There  was  no  one 
now  at  Frayne  in  position  to  ask  the  new  commander 
questions,  for  Dr.  Waller  had  avoided  him  in  every  pos- 
sible way,  but  Waller  had  nobly  done  the  work  of  his 
noble  profession.  Moreau,  or  Eagle  Wing,  was  mending 
so  very  fast  there  was  no  reason  whatever  why  the  doctor 
should  object  to  his  receiving  visitors.  It  was  Flint  alone 
who  would  be  held  responsible  if  anything  went  wrong. 
Yet  Fort  Frayne,  to  a  woman,  took  fire  at  the  major's 
action.  Two  days  previous  he  might  have  commanded 
the  support  of  Mrs.  Wilkins,  but  Nanette  herself  had 
spoiled  all  chance  of  that.  'It  seems  the  lady  had  been 
to  call  at  Mrs.  Hay's  the  previous  day— that  Mrs.  Hay 
had  begged  to  be  excused, — that  Mrs.  Wilkins  had  then 
persisted,  possibly  as  a  result  of  recent  conference  with 
Flint,  and  had  bidden  the  servant  say  she'd  wait  until 
Miss  Flower  could  come  down,  and  so  sailed  on  into  the 
parlor,  intent  on  seeing  all  she  could  of  both  the  house 
and  its  inmates.  But  not  a  soul  appeared.  Mrs.  Hay 
was  watching  over  her  sleeping  husband,  whose  slow  re- 


256  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

covery  Flint  was  noting  with  imimpatient  eye.  Voices 
low,  yet  eager,  could  be  heard  aloft  in  Nanette's  room. 
The  servant,  when  she  came  down,  had  returned  without 
a  word  to  the  inner  regions  about  the  kitchen,  anjd  Mrs. 
Wilkins's  wait  became  a  long  one.  At  last  the  domestic 
came  rustling  through  the  lower  floor  again,  and  Mrs. 
Wilkins  hailed.  Both  were  Irish,  but  one  was  the  wife  of 
an  officer  and  long  a  power,  if  not  indeed  a  terror,  in  the 
regiment.  The  other  feared  the  quartermaster's  wife  as 
little  as  Mrs.  Wilkins  feared  the  colonel's,  and,  when  or- 
dered to  stand  and  say  why  she  brought  no  answer  from 
Miss  Flower,  declined  to  stand,  but  decidedly  said  she 
brought  none  because  there  was  none. 

"  Did  ye  tell  her  I'd  wait?  "  said  Mrs.  Wilkins. 

"  I  did,"  said  Miss  McGrath,  "  an'  she  said  '  Let  her,' 
an'  so  I  did."  Then  in  came  Mrs.  Hay  imploring  hush, 
and,  with  rage  in  her  Hibernian  heart,  the  consort  of  the 
quartermaster  came  away. 

There  was  not  one  woman  in  all  Fort  Frayne,  therefore, 
to  approve  the  major's  action  in  permitting  this  wild  girl 
to  visit  wilder  Indian  patient.  Mrs.  Hay  knew  nothing 
of  it  because  Nanette  well  understood  that  there  would 
be  lodged  objection  that  she  dare  not  disregard — her 
uncle's  will.  One  other  girl  there  was,  that  night  at 
Frayne,  who  marked  her  going  and  sought  to  follow  and 
was  recalled,  restrained  at  the  very  threshold  by  the  sound 
of  a  beloved  voice  softly,  in  the  Sioux  tongue,  calling  her 
name.  One  other  girl  there  was  who  knew  not  of  her 
going,  who  shrank  from  thought  of  meeting  her  at  any 


THANKSGIVING  AT  FRAYNE         257 

time, — in  any  place, — and  yet  was  destined    to    an    en- 
counter fateful  in  its  results  in  every  way. 

Just  as  tattoo  was  sounding  on  the  infantry  bugle, 
Esther  Dade  sat  reading  fairy  stories  at  the  children's 
bedside  in  the  quarters  of  Sergeant  Foster,  of  her  father's 
company.  There  had  been  Thanksgiving  dinner  with 
Mrs.  Ray,  an  Amazonian  feast  since  all  their  lords  were 
still  away  on  service,  and  Sandy  Ray  and  Billy,  Jr.,  were 
perhaps  too  young  to  count.  Dinner  was  all  over  by 
eight  o'clock,  and,  despite  some  merry  games,  the  young- 
sters' eyes  were  showing  symptoms  of  the  sandman's 
coming,  when  that  privileged  character,  Hogan,  Ray's 
long-tried  trooper  now  turned  major  domo,  appeared  at 
the  doorway  of  the  little  army  parlor.  He  had  been  bearer 
of  a  lot  of  goodies  to  the  children  among  the  quarters 
of  the  married  soldiers,  and  now,  would  Mrs.  Dade  please 
speak  with  Mrs.  Foster,  who  had  come  over  with  him, 
and  Mrs.  Dade  departed  for  the  kitchen  forthwith.  Pres- 
ently she  returned.  "  I'm  going  back  awhile  with  Mrs. 
Foster,"  said  she.  "  She's  sitting  up  to-night  with  poor 
Mrs.  Wing,  who — "  But  there  was  no  need  of  explana- 
tion. They  all  knew.  They  had  laid  so  recently  their 
wreaths  of  evergreen  on  the  grave  of  the  gallant  soldier 
who  fell,  fighting  at  the  Elk,  and  now  another  helpless 
little  soul  had  come  to  bear  the  buried  name,  and  all  that 
were  left  for  mother  and  babe  was  woman's  boundless 
charity.  It  was  Thanksgiving  night,  and  while  the  wail 
of  the  bereaved  and  stricken  went  up  from  more  than 
one  of  these  humble  tenements  below  the  eastward  bluff, 


258  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

tbere  were  sccm^s  of  glad  and  gratefrd  hearts  that  Ufted 
praise  and  thank^ving  to  the  thrcme  chi  high,  even  though 
they  knew  not  at  the  moment  but  that  they,  too,  might, 
even  dien,  be  robbed  of  all  that  stood  between  them  and 
desoladoD.  Once  it  happened  in  the  story  of  our  hard- 
^^ting,  hard-used  little  army  that  a  bev}^  of  fair  young 
wives,  nearly  half  a  score  in  nimiber,  in  all  the  bravery 
of  their  summer  tcxlets,  sat  in  the  shadow  of  the  flag,  all 
smfles  and  gladness  and  applause,  joining  in  the  ganiscHi 
festivities  on  the  Nation's  natal  day,  never  dreaming  of 
the  awful  news  that  should  fell  them  ere  the  coming  of 
another  son;  that  CHie  and  all  they  had  beoi  widowed 
mcM-e  than  a  week ;  that  the  men  they  loved,  whose  names 
they  bore,  lay  hacked  and  mutilated  beyond  recognition 
within  sight  of  those  very  hills  where  now  the  men  from 
Frayne  were  facing  the  same  old  foe.  In  the  midst  of 
army  life  we  are,  indeed,  in  death,  and  the  thanksgiving 
of  loving  ones  about  the  fireside  for  mercies  thus  far 
shown,  is  mingled  ever  with  the  dread  of  what  the  mor- 
row may  unf  old. 

"Let  me  go,  too,  mamma,"  was  Esther's  prompt  ap- 
peal, as  she  heard  her  mother's  words.  "  I  can  put  the 
children  to  bed  while  you  and  ^Irs.  Foster  are  over  there." 

And  so  with  Hogan,  lantern  bearing,  mother  and 
daughter  had  followed  the  sergeant's  wife  across  the 
broad,  snow-covered  parade;  had  passed  without  a»n- 
ment,  though  each  was  thinking  of  the  new  inmate,  the 
brightly-lighted  hospital  building  cm  the  edge  of  the 
plateau,  and  descended  the  winding  pathway  to  the  humble 


THANKSGmXG  AT  FRAYNE         259 

quarters  of  the  married  soldiers,  nestling  in  the  shdtered 
flats  between  the  garrison  proper  and  the  bold  bluflFs  that 
again  close  bordered  the  rushing  stream.  And  here  at 
Sergeant  Foster's  doorway  Esther  parted  from  the  elders, 
and  was  welcomed  by  shrieks  of  joy  from  three  sturdy 
little  cherubs — the  sergeant's  olive  branches,  and  here,  as 
the  last  notes  of  tattoo  went  echoing  away  imder  the  vast 
and  spangled  sky,  one  by  one  her  charges  closed  their 
drooping  lids  and  dropped  to  sleep  and  left  their  gentle 
friend  and  reader  to  her  own  reflections. 

There  was  a  soldier  dance  that  night  in  one  of  the 
vacant  messrooms.  Flint's  two  companies  were  making 
the  best  of  their  isolation,  and  found,  as  is  not  utterly 
uncommon,  quite  a  few  maids  and  matrons  among  the 
households  of  the  absent  soldiery  quite  willing  to  be  coo- 
soled  and  comforted.  There  were  bright  lights,  there- 
fore, further  along  the  edge  of  the  steep,  beyond  those  of 
the  hospital,  and  the  squeak  of  fiddle  and  drone  of  'cello, 
mingled  with  the  plaintive  piping  of  the  flute,  were  heard 
at  intervals  through  the  silence  of  the  wintrj'  night.  No 
tramp  of  sentrj-  broke  the  hush  about  the  little  rift  be- 
tween the  heights — the  major  holding  that  none  was 
necessary-  where  there  were  so  many  dogs.  ^lost  of  the 
soldiers'  families  had  gone  to  the  dance ;  all  of  the  younger 
children  were  asleep;  even  the  dc^s  were  still,  and  so, 
when  at  ten  o'clock  Esther  tiptoed  frcrni  the  children's 
bedside  and  stood  imder  the  starlight,  the  murmur  of  the 
Platte  was  the  only  sound  that  reached  her  ears  until, 
away  over  at  the  southwest  gate  the  night  guards  b^;an 


i6o         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

the  long-drawn  heralding  of  the  hour.  *'  Ten  o'clock  and 
all's  well  "  it  went  from  post  to  post  along  the  west  and 
northward  front,  but  when  Number  Six,  at  the  quarter- 
master's storehouse  near  the  southeast  corner,  should 
have  taken  up  the  cry  where  it  was  dropped  by  Number 
Five,  afar  over  near  the  flagstaff,  there  was  unaccount- 
able silence.    Six  did  not  utter  a  sound. 

Lxx)king  up  from  the  level  of  "  Sudstown,"  as  it  had 
earlier  been  named,  Esther  could  see  the  black  bulk  of  the 
storehouse  close  to  the  edge  of  the  plateau.  Between  its 
westward  gable  end  and  the  porch  of  the  hospital  lay 
some  fifty  yards  of  open  space,  and  through  this  gap  now 
gleamed  a  spangled  section  of  the  western  heavens.  Along 
the  bluff,  just  under  the  crest,  ran  a  pathway  that  circled 
the  southeastward  corner  and  led  away  to  the  trader's 
store,  south  of  the  post.  Tradition  had  it  that  the  track 
was  worn  by  night  raiders,  bearing  contraband  fluids  from 
store  to  barracks  in  the  days  before  such  traffic  was  killed 
by  that  common  sense  promoter  of  temperance,  sober- 
ness and  chastity — the  post  exchange.  Along  that  bluff 
line,  from  the  storehouse  toward  the  hospital,  invisible, 
doutbless,  from  either  building  or  from  the  bluff  itself, 
but  thrown  in  sharp  relief  against  that  rectangular  inlet 
of  starry  sky,  two  black  figures,  crouching  and  bearing 
some  long,  flat  object  between  them,  swift  and  noiseless 
were  speeding  toward  the  hospital.  The  next  instant  they 
were  lost  in  the  black  background  of  that  building.  Then, 
as  suddenly  and  a  moment  later,  one  of  them  reappeared, 
just  for  a  moment,  against  the  brightly  lighted  window, — 


THANKSGIVING  AT  FRAYNE        261 

the  southernmost  window  on  the  easterward  side — the 
window  of  the  room  that  had  been  Beverly  Field's — the 
window  of  the  room  now  given  over  to  Eagle  Wing,  the 
Sioux, — the  captive  for  whose  safe  keeping  a  special 
sentry  within  the  building,  and  this  strangely  silent 
Number  Six  without,  were  jointly  responsible.  Then  that 
silhouetted  figure  was  blotted  from  her  sight  in  general 
darkness,  for  the  lights  within  as  suddenly  went  out. 

And  at  that  very  moment  a  sound  smote  upon  her  ear, 
unaccountable  at  that  hour  and  that  side  of  the  gar- 
rison— hoofbeats  swiftly  coming  down  into  the  hollow 
from  the  eastward  bluff, — hoofbeats  and  low,  excited 
voices.  Foster's  little  house  was  southernmost  of  the 
settlement.  The  ground  was  open  between  it  and  the 
heights,  and  despite  the  low,  cautious  tones,  Esther  heard 
the  foremost  rider's  muttered,  angering  words.  "  Dam 
fool !  Crazy !  Heap  crazy !  Too  much  hurry.  Ought 
t'  let  him  call  off  first ! "  Then  an  answer  in  guttural 
Sioux. 

And  then  in  an  instant  it  dawned  upon  the  girl  that 
here  was  new  crime,  new  bloodshed,  perhaps,  and  a  plot 
to  free  a  villianous  captive.  Her  first  thought  w^s  to 
scream  for  aid,  but  what  aid  could  she  summon?  Not  a 
man  was  within  hail  except  these,  the  merciless  haters  of 
her  race  and  name.  To  scream  would  be  to  invite  their 
ready  knives  to  her  heart — to  the  heart  of  any  woman 
who  might  rush  to  her  succor.  The  cry  died  in  her  throat, 
and,  trembling  with  dread  and  excitement,  she  clung  to 
the  door  post  and  crouched  and  listened,  for  stifled  mutter- 


262         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

ings  could  be  heard,  a  curse  or  two  in  vigorous  English, 
a  stamping  of  impatient  ponies,  a  warning  in  a  w^oman's 
tone.  Then,  thank  God !  Up  at  the  storehouse  corner 
a  light  came  dancing  into  view.  In  honest  soldier  tones 
boomed  out  the  query  '*  What's  the  matter.  Six  ?  "  and 
then,  followed  by  a  scurry  of  hoofs,  a  mad  lashing  of 
quirts,  a  scramble  and  rush  of  frightened  steeds,  and  a 
cursing  of  furious  tongues,  her  own  brave  young  voice 
rang  out  on  the  night.  *'  This  way,  sergeant !  Help — 
Quick ! " 

Black  forms  of  mounts  and  riders  sped  desperately 
away,  and  then  with  all  the  wiry,  sinewy  strength  of  her 
lithe  and  slender  form,  Esther  hurled  herself  upon  an- 
other slender  figure,  speeding  after  these,  afoot.  Des- 
perately she  clung  to  it  in  spite  of  savage  blows  and 
strainings.  And  so  they  found  her,  as  forth  they  came, 
— a  rush  of  shrieking,  startled,  candle-bearing  women, — 
of  bewildered  and  unconsciously  blasphemous  men  of  the 
guard — her  arms  locked  firmly  about  a  girl  in  semi-savage 
garb.  The  villain  of  the  drama  had  been  whisked  away, 
leaving  the  woman  who  sought  to  save  him  to  the  mercy 
of  the  foe.  ■■ 


CHAPTER  XXII 

BEHIND   THE    BARS 

IN  the  whirl  and  excitement  following  the  startling 
outcry  from  the  flats,  all  Fort  Frayne  was  speedily 
involved.  The  guard  came  rushing  through  the 
night,  Corporal  Shannon  stumbling  over  a  prostrate  form, 
— the  sentry  on  Number  Six,  gagged  and  bound.  The 
steward  shouted  from  the  hospital  porch  that  Eagle 
Wing,  the  prisoner  patient,  had  escaped  through  the  rear 
window,  despite  its  height  above  the  sloping  ground.  A 
little  ladder,  borrowed  from  the  quartermaster's  corral, 
was  found  a  moment  later.  An  Indian  pony,  saddled 
Sioux  fashion,  was  caught  running,  riderless,  toward  the 
trader's  back  gate,  his  horsehair  bridle  torn  half  way 
from  his  shaggy  head.  Sergeant  Crabb,  waiting  for  no 
orders  from  the  major,  no  sooner  heard  that  Moreau  was 
gone,  than  he  rushed  his  stable  guard  to  the  saddleroom, 
and  in  fifteen  minutes  had,  not  only  his  own  squad,  Imt 
half  a  dozen  "  casual  "  troopers  circling  the  post  in  search 
of  the  trail,  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour  was  hot  in  chase 
of  two  fleeing  horsemen,  dimly  seen  ahead  through  the 
starlight,  across  the  snowy  wastes.  That  snowfall  was 
the  Sioux's  undoing.    Without  it  the  trail  would  have 

263 


264  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

been  invisible  at  night.  With  it,  the  pursued  were  well- 
nigh  hopeless  from  the  start.  Precious  time  had  been 
lost  in  circling  far  out  south  of  the  post  before  making 
for  the  ford,  whither  Crabb's  instinct  sent  him  at  once, 
to  the  end  that  he  and  two  of  his  fellows  ploughed  through 
the  foaming  waters,  barely  five  hundred  yards  behind  the 
chase,  and,  as  they  rode  vehemently  onward  through  the 
starlight,  straining  every  nerve,  they  heard  nothing  of 
the  happenings  about  the  Fosters'  doorway,  where  by  this 
time  post  commander,  post  surgeon,  post  quartermaster 
and  acting  post  adjutant,  post  ordnance,  quartermaster 
and  commissary  sergeants,  many  of  the  post  guard  and 
most  of  the  post  laundresses  had  gathered — some  silent, 
anxious  and  bewildered,  some  excitedly  babbling;  while, 
within  the  sergeant's  domicile,  Esther  Dade,  very  pale  and 
somewhat  out  of  breath,  was  trying  with  quiet  self  pos- 
session to  answer  the  myriad  questions  poured  at  her, 
while  Dr.  Waller  was  ministering  to  the  dazed  and  moan- 
ing sentry,  and,  in  an  adjoining  tenement,  a  little  group 
had  gathered  about  an  unconscious  form.  Someone  had 
sent  for  Mrs.  Hay,  who  was  silently,  tearfully  chafing 
the  limp  and  almost  lifeless  hands  of  a  girl  in  Indian 
garb.  The  cloak  and  skirts  of  civilization  had  been  found 
beneath  the  window  of  the  deserted  room,  and  were  ex- 
hibited as  a  means  of  bringing  to  his  senses  a  much  be- 
wildered major,  whose  first  words  on  entering  the  hut 
gave  rise  to  wonderment  in  the  eyes  of  most  of  his  hear- 
ers, and  to  an  impulsive  reply  from  the  lips  of  Mrs.  Hay. 
"  I  warned  the  general  that  girl  would  play  us  some 


BEHIND  THE  BARS  265 

Indian  trick,  but  he  ordered  her  release,"  said  Flint,  and 
with  wrathful  emphasis  came  the  answer. 

"  The  general  warned  you  this  girl  would  play  you  a 
trick,  and,  thanks  to  no  one  but  you,  she's  done  it !  '* 

Then  rising  and  stepping  aside,  the  long-suffering 
woman  revealed  the  pallid,  senseless  face, — not  of  the 
little  Indian  maid,  her  shrinking  charge  and  guest, — ^but 
of  the  niece  she  loved  and  had  lived  and  lied  for  many 
and  trying  years — Nanette  LaFleur,  a  long-lost  sister's 
only  child. 

So  Blake  knew  what  he  was  talking  about  that  keen 
November  morning  among  the  pines  at  Bear  Cliff.  He 
had  unearthed  an  almost  forgotten  legend  of  old  Fort 
Laramie. 

But  the  amaze  and  discomfiture  of  the  temporary  post 
commander  turned  this  night  of  thanksgiving,  so  far  as 
he  was  concerned,  into  something  purgatorial.  The  sight 
of  his  sentry,  bound,  gagged  and  bleeding, — the  discovery 
of  the  ladder  and  of  the  escape  of  the  prisoner,  for  whom 
he  was  accountable,  had  filled  him  with  dismay,  yet  for 
the  moment  failed  to  stagger  his  indomitable  self  esteem. 
There  had  been  a  plot,  of  course,  and  the  instant  impulse 
of  his  soul  was  to  fix  the  blame  on  others  and  to  free 
himself.  An  Indian  trick,  of  course,  and  who  but  the 
little  Indian  maid  within  the  trader's  gates  could  be  the 
instrument!  Through  her,  of  course,  the  conspirators 
about  the  post  had  been  enabled  to  act.  She  was  the  gen- 
eral's  protegee,  not  his,  and  the  general  must  shoulder 
the  blame.    Even  when  Flint  saw  Nanette,  self  convicted 


266  A  l^AUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

through  her  very  garb  and  her  presence  at  the  scene  of 
the  final  struggle, — even  when  assured  it  was  she  and 
not  the  Httle  Ogalalla  girl  who  had  been  caught  in  the 
act, — that  the  latter,  in  fact,  had  never  left  the  trader's 
house,  his  disproportioned  mind  refused  to  grasp  the 
situation.  Nanette,  he  declared,  with  pallid  face,  "  must 
have  been  made  a  victim."  "  Nothing  could  have  beett 
farther  from  her  thoughts  than  complicity  in  the  escape 
of  Eagle  Wing."  "  She  had  every  reason  to  desire  his 
restoration  to  health,  strength  and  to  the  fostering  care 
of  the  good  and  charitable  body  of  Christian  people  in- 
terested in  his  behalf."  "  All  this  would  be  endangered 
by  his  attempt  to  rejoin  the  warriors  on  the  warpath." 
The  major  ordered  the  instant  arrest  of  the  sentry  sta- 
tioned at  the  door  of  the  hospital  room — shut  out  by  the 
major's  own  act  from  all  possibility  of  seeing  what  was 
going  on  within.  He  ordered  under  arrest  the  corporal 
of  the  relief  on  post  for  presumable  complicity,  and,  mind- 
ful of  a  famous  case  of  Ethiopian  skill  then  new  in  the 
public  mind,  demanded  of  Dr.  Waller  that  he  say  in  so 
many  words  that  the  gag  and  wrist  thongs  on  the  pros- 
trate sentry  had  not  been  self  applied.  Waller  impassively 
pointed  to  the  huge  lump  at  the  base  of  the  sufferer's 
skull,  "  Gag  and  bonds  he  might  have  so  pUced,  after 
much  assiduous  practice,"  said  he,  "  but  no  man  living 
could  hit  himself  such  a  blow  at  the  back  of  the  head." 
"  Who  could  have  done  it,  then  ?  "  asked  Flint.  It  was 
inconceivable  to  Waller's  mind  that  any  one  of  the  sol- 
diery could  have  been  tempted  to  such  perfidy  for  an 


BEHIND  THE  BARS  267 

Indian's  sake.  There  was  not  at  the  moment  an  Indian 
scout  or  soldier  at  the  post,  or  an  Indian  warrior,  not  a 
prisoner,  unaccounted  for.  There  had  been  halfbreeds 
hanging  about  the  store  prior  to  the  final  escapade  of  Pete 
and  Crapaud,  but  these  had  realized  their  unpopularity 
after  the  battle  on  the  Elk,  and  had  departed  for  other 
climes.  Crapaud  was  still  under  guard.  Pete  was  still 
at  large,  perchance,  with  Stabber's  braves.  There  was 
not  another  man  about  the  trader's  place  whom  Flint  or 
others  could  suspect.  Yet  the  sergeant  of  the  guard, 
searching  cautiously  with  his  lantern  about  the  post  of 
Number  Six,  had  come  upon  some  suggestive  signs.  The 
snow  was  trampled  and  bloody  about  the  place  where 
the  soldier  fell,  and  there  were  here  and  there  the  tracks 
of  moccasined  feet, — those  of  a  young  woman  or  child 
going  at  speed  toward  the  hospital,  running,  probably, 
and  followed  close  by  a  moccasined  man.  Then  those 
of  the  man,  alone,  went  sprinting  down  the  bluff  south- 
eastward over  the  flats  some  distance  south  of  the  Fos- 
ter's doorway  and  up  the  opposite  bluff,  to  a  point  where 
four  ponies,  shoeless,  had  been  huddled  for  as  much, 
perhaps,  as  half  an  hour.  Then  all  four  had  come 
scampering  down  close  together  into  the  space  below  the 
hospital,  not  fifty  yards  from  where  the  sentry  fell,  and 
the  moccasined  feet  of  a  man  and  woman  had  scurried 
down  the  bluff  from  the  hospital  window,  to  meet  them 
west  of  Foster's  shanty.  Then  there  had  been  confusion, 
— ^trouble  of  some  kind:  One  pony,  pursued  a  short  dis- 
tance, had  broken  away;  the  others  had  gone  pounding 


268  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

out  southeastward  up  the  slope  and  out  over  the  uplands, 
then  down  again,  in  wide  sweep,  through  the  valley  of 
the  little  rivulet  and  along  the  low  bench  southwest  of  the 
fort,  crossing  the  Rock  Springs  road  and  striking,  further 
on,  diagonally,  the  Rawlins  trail,  where  Crabb  and  his  fel- 
lows had  found  it  and  followed. 

But  all  this  took  hours  of  time,  and  meanwhile,  only 
half  revived,  Nanette  had  been  gently,  pityingly  borne 
away  to  a  sorrowing  woman's  home,  for  at  last  it  was 
found,  through  the  thick  and  lustrous  hair,  that  she,  too, 
had  been  struck  a  harsh  and  cruel  blow ;  that  one  reason, 
probably,  why  she  had  been  able  to  oppose  no  stouter 
resistance  to  so  slender  a  girl  as  Esther  Dade  was  that 
she  was  already  half  dazed  through  the  stroke  of  some 
blunt,  heavy  weapon,  wielded  probably  by  him  she  was 
risking  all  to  save. 

Meantime  the  major  had  been  pursuing  his  investiga- 
tions. Schmidt,  the  soldier  sentry  in  front  of  Moreau's 
door,  a  simple-hearted  Teuton  of  irreproachable  char- 
acter, tearfully  protested  against  his  incarceration.  He 
had  obeyed  his  orders  to  the  letter.  The  major  himself 
had  brought  the  lady  to  the  hospital  and  showed  her  in. 
The  door  that  had  been  open,  permitting  the  sentry  con- 
stant sight  of  his  prisoner,  had  been  closed  by  the  com- 
manding officer  himself.  Therefore,  it  was  not  for  him,  a 
private  soldier,  to  presume  to  reopen  it.  The  major  said 
to  the  lady  he  would  return  for  her  soon  after  ten,  and 
the  lady  smilingly  (Schmidt  did  not  say  how  smilingly, 
— ^how  bewitchingly  smilingly,  but  the  major  needed  no 


BEHIND  THE  BARS  269 

reminder)  thanked  him,  and  said,  by  that  time  she  would 
be  ready.  In  a  few  minutes  she  came  out,  saying,  (doubt- 
less with  the  same  bewitching  smile)  she  would  have  to 
run  over  home  for  something,  and  she  was  gone  nearly 
half  an  hour,  and  all  that  time  the  door  was  open,  the  pris- 
oner on  the  bed  in  his  blankets,  the  lamp  brightly  burning. 
It  was  near  tattoo  when  she  returned,  with  some  things 
under  her  cloak,  and  she  was  breathing  quick  and  seemed 
hurried  and  shut  the  door  after  thanking  him,  and  he 
saw  no  more  of  her  for  fifteen  minutes,  when  the  door 
opened  and  out  she  came,  the  same  cloak  around  her, 
yet  she  looked  different,  somehow,  and  must  have  tiptoed, 
for  he  didn't  hear  her  heels  as  he  had  before.  She  didn't 
seem  quite  so  tall,  either,  and  that  was  all,  for  he  never 
knew  anything  more  about  it  till  the  steward  came  running 
to  tell  of  the  escape. 

So  Schmidt  could  throw  but  little  light  upon  the  situ- 
ation, save  to  Flint  himself,  who  did  not  then  see  fit  to 
say  to  anyone  that  at  no  time  was  it  covenanted  that 
Miss  Flower  should  be  allowed  to  go  and  come  un- 
attended. In  doing  so  she  had  deluded  someone  beside 
the  sentry. 

It  was  late  in  the  night  when  Number  Six  regained  his 
senses  and  could  tell  his  tale,  which  was  even  more  dam- 
^gii^^-  Quite  early  in  the  evening,  so  he  said, — as  early 
as  nine  o'clock, — he  was  under  the  hospital  corner,  lis- 
tening to  the  music  further  up  along  the  bluff.  A  lady 
came  from  the  south  of  the  building  as  though  she  were 
going  down  to  Sudstown.     Mrs.  Foster  had  gone  down 


^^o         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

not  long  before,  and  Hogan,  with  a  lantern,  and  two  offi- 
cers' ladies.  But  this  one  came  all  alone  and  spoke  to 
him  pleasant-like  and  said  she  was  so  sorry  he  couldn't 
be  at  the  dance.  She'd  been  seeing  the  sick  and  wounded 
in  hospital,  she  said,  and  was  going  to  bring  some  wine 
and  jellies.  If  he  didn't  mind,  she'd  take  the  path  arouiKi 
the  quartermaster's  storehouse  outside,  as  she  was  going 
to  Mr.  Hay's,  and  didn't  care  to  go  through  by  the  guard- 
house. So  Six  let  her  go,  as  he  "  had  no  orders  agin  it " 
(even  though  it  dawned  upon  him  that  this  must  be  the 
young  lady  that  had  been  carried  off  by  the  Sioux). 
That  made  him  think  a  bit,  he  said,  and  when  she  came 
back  with  a  basket  nicely  covered  with  a  white  napkin,  she 
made  him  take  a  big  chicken  sandwich.  '*  Sure  I  didn't 
know  how  to  refuse  the  lady,  until  she  poured  me  out  a  big 
tumbler  of  wine — wine,  she  said,  she  was  taking  in  to 
Sergeant  Briggs  and  Corporal  Turner  that  was  shot  at 
the  Elk,  and  she  couldn't  bear  to  see  me  all  alone  out  there 
in  the  cold."  But  Six  said  he  dasn't  take  the  wine.  He 
got  six  months  "  blind  "  once  for  a  similar  solecism,  and, 
mindful  of  the  major's  warning  (this  was  diplomatic) 
Six  swore  he  had  sworn  off,  and  had  to  refuse  the  re- 
peated requests  of  the  lady.  He  suspicioned  her,  he  said, 
because  she  was  so  persistent.  Then  she  laughed  and 
said  good-night  and  went  on  to  the  hospital.  What  be- 
came of  the  wine  she  had  poured  out?  (This  from  the 
grim  and  hitherto  silent  doctor,  seated  by  the  bedside.) 
She  must  have  tossed  it  out  or  drunk  it  herself,  perhaps, 
Six  didn't  know.     Certainly  no  trace  of  it  could  be  found 


BEHIND  THE  BARS  271 

in  the  snow.  Then  nothing  happened  for  as  much  as 
twenty  minutes  or  so,  and  he  was  over  toward  the  south 
end  of  his  post,  but  facing  toward  the  hospital  when  she 
came  again  down  the  steps,  and  this  time  handed  him  some 
cake  and  told  him  he  was  a  good  soldier  not  to  drink  even 
wine,  and  asked  him  what  were  the  lights  away  across  the 
Platte,  and  he  couldn't  see  any,  and  was  following  her 
pointing  finger  and  staring,  and  then  all  of  a  sudden  he 
saw  a  million  lights,  dancing,  and  stars  and  bombs  and 
that  was  all  he  knew  till  they  began  talking  to  him  here 
in  hospital.  Something  had  hit  him  from  behind,  but  he 
couldn't  tell  what. 

Flint's  nerve  was  failing  him,  for  here  was  confirmation 
of  the  general's  theory,  but  there  was  worse  to  come  and 
more  of  it. 

Miss  McGrath,  domestic  at  the  trader's,  had  told  a  tale 
that  had  reached  the  ears  of  Mistress  McGann,  and  *twas 
the  latter  that  bade  the  major  summon  the  girl  and  demand 
of  her  what  it  was  she  had  seen  and  heard  concerning 
"  Crappo  "  and  the  lady  occupant  of  the  second  floor  front 
at  the  trader's  home.  Then  it  was  that  the  major  heard 
what  others  had  earlier  conjectured — that  there  had  been 
clandestine  meetings,  whispered  conferences  and  the  like, 
within  the  first  week  of  the  lovely  niece's  coming  to  Fort 
Frayne.  That  notes  had  been  fetched  and  carried  by 
"  Crappo  "  as  well  as  Pete ;  that  Miss  Flower  was  either  a 
somnambulist  or  a  good  imitation  of  one,  as  on  two  occa- 
sions the  maid  had  "  peeked  "  and  seen  her  down-stairs 
at  the  back  door  in  the  dead  hours  of  the  night,  or  the  very 


272  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

early  morning.  That  was  when  she  first  came.  Then, 
since  the  recapture,  Miss  McGrath  felt  confident  that 
though  never  again  detected  down  stairs,  Miss  Flower 
had  been  out  at  night,  as  Miss  McGrath  believed  her  to 
have  been  the  night,  when  was  it  ?  '*  when  little  Kennedy 
had  his  scrap  wid  the  Sioux  the  boys  do  be  all  talkin' 
about " — the  night,  in  fact,  that  Stabber's  band  slipped 
away  from  the  Platte,  Ray's  troop  following  at  dawn. 
Questioned  as  to  how  it  was  possible  for  Miss  Flower  to 
get  out  without  coming  down  stairs.  Miss  McGrath  said 
she  wasn't  good  at  monkeyshines  herself,  but  "  wimmen 
that  could  ride  sthraddle-wise  "  were  capable  of  climbs 
more  difficult  than  that  which  the  vine  trellis  afforded 
from  the  porch  floor  to  the  porch  roof.  Miss  McGrath 
hadn't  been  spying,  of  course,  because  her  room  was  at 
the  back  of  the  house,  beyond  the  kitchen,  but  how  did 
the  little  heel  tracks  get  on  the  veranda  roof? — the  road 
dust  on  the  matting  under  the  window  ?  the  vine  twigs  in 
that ''  quare  "  made  skirt  never  worn  by  day  ?  That  Miss 
Flower  could  and  did  ride  "  asthraddle "  and  ride  ad- 
mirably when  found  with  the  Sioux  at  Bear  Cliff,  every- 
body at  Frayne  well  knew  by  this  time.  That  she  had 
so  ridden  at  Fort  Frayne  was  known  to  no  officer  or  lady 
of  the  garrison  then  present,  but  believed  by  Miss  McGrath 
because  of  certain  inexpressibles  of  the  same  material 
with  the  "  quare "  made  skirt ;  both  found,  dusty  and 
somewhat  bedraggled,  the  morning  Captain  Blake  was 
having  his  chase  after  the  Indians,  and  Miss  Flower  was 
so  "  wild  excited  like."     All  this  and  more  did  Miss  Mc- 


BEHIND  THE  BARS  273 

Grath  reveal  before  being  permitted  to  return  to  the  sanc- 
tity of  her  chamber,  and  Flint  felt  the  ground  sinking 
beneath  his  feet.  It  might  even  be  alleged  of  him  now 
that  he  had  connived  at  the  escape  of  this  most  dangerous 
and  desperate  character,  this  Indian  leader,  of  whom  ex- 
ample, prompt  and  sharp,  would  certainly  have  been  made, 
unless  the  general  and  the  ends  of  justice  were  defeated. 
But  what  stung  the  major  most  of  all  was  that  he  had 
been  fairly  victimized,  hoodwinked,  cajoled,  wheedled, 
flattered  into  this  wretched  predicainent,  all  through  the 
wiles  and  graces  of  a  woman.  No  one  knew  it,  whatever 
might  be  suspected,  but  Nanette  had  bewitched  him  quite 
as  much  as  missives  from  the  East  had  persuaded  and 
misled. 

And  so  it  was  with  hardened  and  resentful  heart  that 
the  major  sought  her  on  the  morrow.  The  general  and 
the  commands  afield  would  soon  be  coming  home.  Such 
Indians  as  they  had  not  "  rounded  up "  and  captured 
were  scattered  far  and  wide.  The  campaign  was  over. 
Now  for  the  disposition  of  the  prisoners.  It  was  to  tell 
Mrs.  Hay  and  Nanette,  especially  Nanette,  why  the  sentries 
were  re-established  about  their  home  and  that,  though 
he  would  not  place  the  trader's  niece  within  a  garrison  cell, 
he  should  hold  her  prisoner  beneath  the  trader's  roof  to 
await  the  action  of  superior  authority  on  the  grievous 
charges  lodged  at  her  door.  She  was  able  to  be  up,  said 
Miss  McGrath, — not  only  up  but  down — down  in  the 
breakfast  room,  looking  blither  and  more  like  herself  than 
she  had  been  since  she  was  brought  home. 


274  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

"  Say  that  Major  Flint  desires  to  see  her  and  Mrs. 
Hay,"  said  Flint,  with  majesty  of  mien,  as,  followed  by 
two  of  his  officers,  he  was  shown  into  the  trader's  parlor. 

And  presently  they  came — Mrs.  Hay  pale  and  sorrow- 
ing; Miss  Flower,  pale,  perhaps,  but  triumphantly  de- 
fiant. The  one  sat  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands 
as  she  listened  to  the  major's  few  words,  cold,  stem  and 
accusing.  The  other  looked  squarely  at  him,  with  fear- 
less, glittering  eyes : — 

"  You  may  order  what  you  like  so  far  as  I'm  con- 
cerned," was  the  utterly  reckless  answer  of  the  girl.  *'  I 
don't  care  what  you  do  now  that  I  know  he  is  safe — free 
— and  that  you  will  never  lay  hands  on  him  again." 

*'  That's  where  you  are  in  error,  Miss  Flower,"  was  the 
major's  calm,  cold-blooded,  yet  rejoiceful  reply.  It  was 
for  this,  indeed,  that  he  had  come.  "  Ralph  Moreau  was 
run  down  by  my  men  soon  after  midnight,  ai?d  he's  now 
behind  the  bars." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

A    SOLDIER    ENTANGLED 

DECEMBER  and  bitter  cold.  The  river  frozen 
stiff.  The  prairie  sheeted  in  unbroken  snow. 
Great  log  fires  roaring  in  every  open  fireplace. 
Great  throngs  of  soldiery  about  the  red  hot  barrack  stoves, 
for  all  the  columns  were  again  in  winter  columns,  and 
Flint's  two  companies  had  "  got  the  route "  for  home. 
They  were  to  march  on  the  morrow,  escorting  as  far  as 
Laramie  the  intractables  of  Stabber's  band,  some  few  of 
the  Indians  to  go  in  irons,  among  them  Ralph  Moreau,  or 
Eagle  Wing,  now  a  notorious  character. 

The  general  was  there  at  Frayne,  with  old  "  Black  Bill," 
erstwhile  chief  inspector  of  the  department,  once  a  subal- 
tern in  days  long  gone  by  when  Laramie  was  "  Ultima 
Thule  "  of  the  plains  forts.  The  general  had  heard  Flint's 
halting  explanation  of  his  laxity  in  Moreau's  case,  saying 
almost  as  little  in  reply  as  his  old  friend  Grant  when  "  in- 
terviewed "  by  those  of  whom  he  disapproved.  "  Black 
Bill "  it  was  who  waxed  explosive  when  once  he  oper^ed 
on  the  major,  and  showed  that  amazed  New  Englander 
something  of  the  contents  of  Moreau's  Indian  kit,  includ- 
ing the  now  famous  hunting  pouch,  all  found  with  Stab" 

275 


276         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

ber's  village.  A  precious  scoundrel,  as  it  turned  out,  was 
this  same  Moreau,  with  more  sins  to  answer  for  than 
many  a  convicted  jail  bird,  and  with  not  one  follower  left 
to  do  him  reverence  except,  perhaps,  that  lonely  girl,  self 
secluded  at  the  Hays.  Hay  himself,  though  weak,  was 
beginning  to  sit  up.  Dade,  Blake  and  Ray  were  all  once 
more  housed  in  garrison.  Truscott  and  Billings,  with 
their  hardy  troopers,  had  taken  temporary  station  at  the 
post,  until  the  general  had  decided  upon  the  disposition  of 
the  array  of  surrendered  Indians,  nearly  three  hundred 
in  number,  now  confined  under  strong  guard  in  the  quar- 
termaster's corral  at  the  flats,  with  six  "  head  devils,"  in- 
cluding Eagle  Wing,  in  the  garrison  prison. 

All  the  officers,  with  two  exceptions,  were  again  for 
duty  at  Frayne.  Webb,  laid  by  the  heels  at  Beecher,  his 
feet  severely  frozen,  and  Beverly  Field,  who,  recalled  from 
a  brief  and  solemn  visit  to  a  far  southern  home,  had 
reached  the  post  at  nightfall  of  the  loth.  There  had 
hardly  been  allowed  him  time  to  uplift  a  single  prayer, 
to  receive  a  word  of  consolation  from  the  lips  of  friends 
and  kindred  who  loved  the  honored  father,  borne  to  his 
last  resting  place.  "  Come  as  soon  as  possible,"  read  the 
message  wired  him  by  Ray,  and,  though  the  campaign  was 
over,  it  was  evident  that  something  was  amiss,  and,  with 
all  his  sorrow  fresh  upon  him,  the  lad,  sore  in  body  and 
soul,  had  hastened  to  obey. 

And  it  was  Ray  who  received  and  welcomed  him  and 
took  him  straightway  to  his  own  cosy  quarters,  that  Mrs. 
Ray,  and  then  the  Blakes,  might  add  their  sympathetic 


A  SOLDIER  ENTANGLED  277 

and  cordial  greeting, — ere  it  came  to  telling  why  it  was 
that  these,  his  friends  despite  that  trouble  that  could  not 
be  talked  of,  were  now  so  earnest  in  their  sympathy, — 
before  telling  him  that  his  good  name  had  become  in- 
volved, that  there  were  allegations  concerning  him  which 
the  chief  had  ordered  "  pigeon-holed  "  until  he  should 
come  to  face  them.  A  pity  it  is  that  Bill  Hay  could  not 
have  been  there,  too,  but  his  fever  had  left  him  far  too 
weak  to  leave  his  room.  Only  Ray  and  Blake  were  pres- 
ent and  it  was  an  interview  not  soon,  if  ever,  to  be  for- 
gotten. 

"  I'm  no  hand  at  breaking  things  gently,  Field,"  said 
Ray,  when  finally  the  three  were  closeted  together  in  the 
captain's  den.  "  It  used  to  worry  Webb  that  you  were 
seen  so  often  riding  with  Miss — Miss  Flower  up  to  Stab- 
ber's  village,  and,  in  the  light  of  what  has  since  happened, 
you  will  admit  that  he  had  reasons.  Hear  me  through," 
he  continued,  as  Field,  sitting  bolt  upright  in  the  easy 
chair,  essayed  to  speak.  "  Neither  Captain  Blake  nor  I 
believe  one  word  to  your  dishonor  in  the  matter,  but  it 
looks  as  though  you  had  been  made  a  tool  of,  and  you  are 
by  no  means  the  first  man.  It  was  to  see  this  fellow, 
Moreau — Eagle  Wing — whom  you  recognized  at  the  Elk, 
— she  was  there  so  frequently — was  it  not  ?  " 

Into  Field's  pale  face  there  had  come  a  look  of  infinite 
distress.  For  a  moment  he  hesitated,  and  little  beads 
began  to  start  out  on  his  forehead. 

"  Captain  Ray,"  he  finally  said,  "  they  tell  me — I  heard 
it  from  the  driver  on  the  way  up  from  Rock  Springs-^ 


278  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

that  Miss  Flower  is  virtually  a  prisoner,  that  she  had  been 
in  league  with  the  Sioux,  and  yet,  until  I  can  see  her — 
can  secure  my  release  from  a  promise,  I  have  to  answer 
you  as  I  answered  you  before — I  cannot  say." 

Blake  started  impatiently  and  heaved  up  from  his  loung- 
ing chair,  his  long  legs  taking  him  in  three  strides  to  the 
frost-covered  window  at  the  front.  Ray  sadly  shook  his 
dark,  curly  head. 

"  You  are  to  see  her,  Field.  The  general — ^bless  him 
for  a  trump! — wouldn't  listen  to  a  word  against  you  in 
your  absence ;  but  that  girl  has  involved  everybody — you, 
her  aunt,  who  has  been  devotion  itself  to  her,  her  uncle, 
who  was  almost  her  slave.  She  deliberately  betrayed  him 
into  the  hands  of  the  Sioux.  In  fact  this  red  robber  and 
villain,  Moreau,  is  the  only  creature  she  hasn't  tried  to 
*  work,'  and  he  abandoned  her  after  she  had  lied,  sneaked 
and  stolen  for  him." 

"  Captain  Ray !  "  The  cry  came  from  pallid  lips,  and 
the  young  soldier  started  to  his  feet,  appalled  at  such  ac- 
cusation. 

"  Every  word  of  it  is  true,"  said  Ray.  "  She  joined 
him  after  his  wounds.  She  shared  his  escape  from  the 
village  at  our  approach.  She  was  with  him  when  Blake 
nabbed  them  at  Bear  Cliff.  She  was  going  with  him 
from  here.  What  manner  of  girl  was  that.  Field,  for 
you  to  be  mixed  up  with  ?  " 

"  He  is  her  half  brother ! "  protested  Field,  with  kin- 
dling eyes.  "  She  told  me — everything — told  me  of  their 
childhood  together,  and — " 


A  SOLDIER  ENTANGLED  279 

"  Told  you  a  pack  of  infernal  lies !  "  burst  in  Blake,  no 
longer  able  to  contain  himself.  "  Made  you  a  cat's  paw ; 
led  you  even  to  taking  her  by  night  to  see  him  when  she 
learned  the  band  were  to  jump  for  the  mountains — used 
you,  by  God,  as  he  used  her,  and,  like  the  Indian  she  is, 
she'd  turn  and  stab  you  now,  if  you  stood  in  her  way  or 
his.     Why,  Field,  that  brute's  her  lover,  and  she's  his — " 

"  It's  a  lie !  You  shall  not  say  it,  sir ! "  cried  Field, 
beside  himself  with  wrath  and  amaze,  as  he  stood  quiver- 
ing from  head  to  foot,  still  weak  from  wounds,  fever  and 
distress  of  mind.  But  Ray  sprang  to  his  side.  "  Hush, 
Blake !  Hush,  Field !  Don't  speak.  What  is  it,  Hogan  ?  " 
And  sharply  he  turned  him  to  the  door,  never  dreaming 
what  had  caused  the  interruption. 

"  The  general,  sir,  to  see  the  captain ! '' 

And  there,  in  the  hallway,  throwing  off  his  heavy  over- 
coat and  "  arctics,"  there,  with  that  ever  faithful  aide  in 
close  attendance,  was  the  chief  they  loved  ;  dropped  in,  all 
unsuspecting,  just  to  say  good-bye.  "  I  knocked  twice," 
began  Hogan,  but  Ray  brushed  him  aside,  for,  catching 
sight  of  the  captain's  face,  the  general  was  already  at  the 
door.  Another  moment  and  he  had  discovered  Field,  and 
with  both  hands  extended,  all  kindliness  and  sympathy, 
he  stepped  at  once  across  the  room  to  greet  him. 

"  I  was  so  very  sorry  to  hear  the  news,"  said  he.  "  I 
knew  your  father  well  in  the  old  days.  How's  your 
wound  ?    What  brought  you  back  so  soon  ?  " 

And  then  there  was  one  instant  of  awkward  silence 
and  then— Ray  spoke. 


28o  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

"  That  was  my  doing,  general.  I  believed  it  best  that 
he  should  be  here  to  meet  you  and — every  allegation  at 
his  expense.  Mr.  Field,  I  feel  sure,  does  not  begin  to 
know  them  yet,  especially  as  to  the  money." 

"  It  was  all  recovered,"  said  the  general.  *'  It  was  found 
almost  intact — so  was  much  of  that  that  they  took  from 
Hay.  Even  if  it  hadn't  been,  Hay  assumed  all  responsi- 
bility for  the  loss." 

With  new  bewilderment  in  his  face,  the  young  officer, 
still  white  and  trembling,  was  gazing,  half  stupefied,  from 
one  to  the  other. 

"  What  money  ?  "  he  demanded.     "  I  never  heard — " 

"  Wait,"  said  the  general,  with  significant  glance  at 
Ray,  who  was  about  to  speak.  '*  I  am  to  see  them — Mrs. 
Hay  and  her  niece — at  nine  o'clock.  It  is  near  that  now. 
Webb  cannot  be  with  us,  but  I  shall  want  you,  Blake. 
Say  nothing  until  then.  Sit  down,  Mr.  Field,  and  tell  me 
about  that  leg.  Can  you  walk  from  here  to  Hay's,  I 
wonder  ?  " 

Then  the  ladies,  Mrs.  Ray  and  her  charming  next  door 
neighbor,  appeared,  and  the  general  adjourned  the  con- 
ference forthwith,  and  went  with  them  to  the  parlor. 

"  Say  nothing  more,"  Ray  found  time  to  whisper. 
"  You'll  understand  it  all  in  twenty  minutes." 

And  at  nine  o'clock  the  little  party  was  on  its  way 
through  the  sharp  and  wintry  night,  the  general  and  Cap- 
tain Blake,  side  by  side,  ahead,  the  aide-de-camp  and  Mr. 
Field  close  following.  Dr.  Waller,  who  had  been  sent 
for,  met  them  near  the  office.    Th?  gentries  at  the  guard- 


A  SOLDIER  ENTANGLED  281 

house  were  being  changed  as  the  five  tramped  by  along 
the  snapping  and  protesting  board  walk,  and  a  sturdy 
little  chap,  in  fur  cap  and  gauntlets,  and  huge  buffalo 
overcoat,  caught  sight  of  them  and,  facing  outward, 
slapped  his  carbine  down  to  the  carry — ^the  night  signal 
of  soldier  recognition  of  superior  rank  as  practised  at  the 
time. 

"  Tables  are  turned  with  a  vengeance,"  said  the  general, 
with  his  quiet  smile.  "  That's  little  Kennedy,  isn't  it  ? 
I  seem  to  see  him  everywhere  when  we're  campaigning. 
Moreau  was  going  to  eat  his  heart  out  next  time  they 
met,  I  believe." 

"  So  he  said,"  grinned  Blake,  "  before  Winsor's  bullet 
fetched  him.  Pity  it  hadn't  killed  instead  of  crippling 
him." 

"  He's  a  bad  lot,"  sighed  the  general.  "  Wing  won't 
fly  away  from  Kennedy,  I  fancy." 

"Not  if  there's  a  shot  left  in  his  belt,"  said  Blake. 
"  And  Ray  is  officer-of-the-day.  There'll  be  no  napping 
on  guard  this  night." 

At  the  barred  aperture  that  served  for  window  on  the 
southward  front,  a  dark  face  peered  forth  in  malignant 
hate  as  the  speakers  strode  by.  But  it  shrank  back,  when 
the  sentry  once  more  tossed  his  carbine  to  the  shoulder, 
and  briskly  trudged  beneath  the  bars.  Six  Indians  shared 
that  prison  room,  four  of  their  number  destined  to  exile 
in  the  distant  East, — to  years,  perhaps,  within  the  case- 
mates of  a  seaboard  fort — the  last  place  on  earth  for  a  son 
of  the  wsirlike  Sioux, 


/ 


282  A  DAUGllTEK  OF  THE  SIOUX 

"  They  know  their  fate,  I  understand,"  said  Blake,  as 
the  general  moved  on  again. 

"  Oh,  yes.  Their  agent  and  others  have  been  here  with 
Indian  Bureau  orders,  permitting  them  to  see  and  talk 
with  the  prisoners.  Their  shackles  are  to  be  riveted  on 
to-night.     Nearly  time  now,  isn't  it?  " 

"  At  tattoo,  sir.  The  whole  guard  forms  then,  and  the 
four  are  to  be  moved  into  the  main  room  for  the  purpose. 
I  am  glad  this  is  the  last  of  it." 

**  Yes,  we'll  start  them  with  Flint  at  dawn  in  the  morn- 
ing. He'll  be  more  than  glad  to  get  away,  too.  He  hasn't 
been  over  lucky  here,  either." 

A  strange  domestic — (the  McGrath  having  been  given 
warning  and  removed  to  Sudsville)  showed  them  into  the 
trader's  roomy  parlor,  the  largest  and  most  pretentious 
at  the  post.  Hay  had  lavished  money  on  his  home  and 
loved  it  and  the  woman  who  had  so  adorned  it.  She 
came  in  almost  instantly  to  greet  them,  looking  piteously 
into  the  kindly,  bearded  face  of  the  general,  and  civilly, 
yet  absently,  welcoming  the  others.  She  did  not  seem  to 
realize  that  Field,  who  stood  in  silence  by  the  side  of 
Captain  Blake,  had  been  away.  She  had  no  thought,  ap- 
parently, for  anyone  but  the  chief  himself, — he  whb  held 
the  destinies  of  her  dear  ones  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand. 
His  first  question  was  for  Fawn  Eyes,  the  little  Ogalalla 
maiden  whose  history  he  seemed  to  know.  "  She  is  well 
and  trying  to  be  content  with  me,"  was  the  reply.  **  She 
has  been  helping  poor  Nanette.  She  does  not  seem  to 
understand  or  realize  what  is  coming  tg  him.  Have  they 
•^ironed  him-r-yet  ? " 


"Hush!     She's  Coming  "—She  was  There. 


A  SOLDIER  ENTANGLED  283 

"  I  believe  not,"  said  the  general.  "  But  it  has  to  be 
done  to-night.     They  start  so  early  in  the  morning." 

"  And  you  won't  let  her  see  him,  general.  No  good  can 
come  from  it.  She  declares  she  will  go  to  him  in  the 
morning,  if  you  prohibit  it  to-night,"  and  the  richly  jew- 
elled hands  of  the  unhappy  woman  were  clasped  almost 
in  supplication. 

"  By  morning  he  will  be  beyond  her  reach.  The  escort 
starts  at  six." 

"  And — these  gentlemen  here — "  She  looked  nervously, 
appealingly  about  her.     "  Must  they — all  know  ?  " 

"  These  and  the  inspector  general.  He  will  be  here  in 
a  moment.  But,  indeed,  Mrs.  Hay,  it  is  all  known,  prac- 
tically," said  the  general,  with  sympathy  and  sorrow  in 
his  tone. 

"  Not  all — not  all,  general !  Even  I  don't  know  all — 
She  herself  has  said  so.     Hush !     She's  coming." 

She  was  there!  They  had  Hstened  for  swish  of  skirts 
or  fall  of  slender  feet  upon  the  stairway,  but  there  had 
not  been  a  sound.  They  saw  the  reason  as  she  halted 
at  the  entrance,  lifting  with  one  little  hand  the  costly 
Navajo  blanket  that  hung  as  a  portiere.  In  harmony 
with  the  glossy  folds  of  richly  dyed  wool,  she  was  habited 
in  Indian  garb  from  head  to  foot.  In  two  black,  lustrous 
braids,  twisted  with  feather  and  quill  and  ribbon,  her 
wealth  of  hair  hung  over  her  shoulders  down  the  front  of 
her  slender  form.  A  robe  of  dark  blue  stuff,  rich  with 
broidery  of  colored  bead  and  bright-hued  plumage,  hung, 
close  clinging,  and  her  feet  were  shod  in  soft  moccasins, 
also  deftly  worked  with  be^cj  and  quill    But  it  was  her 


284  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

face  that  chatned  the  gaze  of  all,  and  that  drew  from  the 
pallid  lips  of  Lieutenant  Field  a  gasp  of  mingled  con- 
sternation and  amaze.  Without  a  vestige  of  color;  with 
black  circles  under  her  glittering  eyes ;  with  lines  of  suf- 
fering around  the  rigid  mouth  and  with  that  strange 
pinched  look  about  the  nostrils  that  tells  of  anguish,  bodily 
and  mental,  Nanette  stood  at  the  doorway,  looking  straight 
at  the  chief.  She  had  no  eyes  for  lesser  lights.  All  her 
thought,  apparently,  was  for  him, — for  him  whose  power 
it  was,  in  spite  of  vehement  opposition,  to  deal  as  he  saw 
fit  with  the  prisoner  in  his  hands.  Appeal  on  part  of 
Friends  Societies,  Peace  and  Indian  Associations  had 
failed.  The  President  had  referred  the  matter  in  its  en- 
tirety to  the  general  commanding  in  the  field,  and  the  gen- 
eral had  decided.  One  moment  she  studied  his  face,  then 
came  slowly  forward.  No  hand  extended.  No  sign  of 
salutation, — ^greeting, — much  less  of  homage.  Ignoring 
all  others  present,  she  addressed  herself  solely  to 
him. 

"Is  it  true  you  have  ordered  him  in  irons  and  to  Fort 
Rochambeau  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  It  is." 

"  Simply  because  he  took  part  with  his  people  when 
your  soldiers  made  war  on  them?**  she  asked,  her  pale 
lips  quivering. 

**  You  well  know  how  much  else  there  was,"  answered 
the  general,  simply.  "  And  I  have  told  you  he  deserves 
no  pity — of  yours." 

*'  Oh,  you  say  he  came  back  here  a  spy ! ''  she  brok^ 


A  SOLDIER  ENTANGLED  285 

forth,  impetuously.  "  It  is  not  so !  He  never  came  near 
the  post, — nearer  than  Stabber's  village,  and  there  he  had 
a  right  to  be.  You  say  'twas  he  who  led  them  to  the  war- 
path,— that  he  planned  the  robbery  here  and  took  the 
money.  He  never  knew  they  were  going,  till  they  were 
gone.  He  never  stole  a  penny.  That  money  was  loaned 
him  honestly — and  for  a  purpose — and  with  the  hope  and 
expectation  of  rich  profit  thereby.'* 

"  By  you,  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  the  general,  calmly,  as 
before. 

"  By  me  ?  No !  What  money  had  I  ?  He  asked  it  and 
u  was  given  him — ^by  Lieutenant  Field." 

A  gasp  that  was  almost  a  cry  following  instantly  on 
this  insolent  assertion — a  sound  of  stir  and  start  among 
the  officers  at  whom  she  had  not  as  yet  so  much  as  glanced, 
now  caused  the  girl  to  turn  one  swift,  contemptuous  look 
their  way,  and  in  that  momentary  flash  her  eyes  encoun- 
tered those  of  the  man  she  had  thus  accused.  Field  stood 
like  one  turned  suddenly  to  stone,  gazing  at  her  with  wild, 
incredulous  eyes.  One  instant  she  seemed  to  sway,  as 
though  the  sight  had  staggered  her,  but  the  rally  was  as 
instantaneous.  Before  the  general  could  interpose  a 
word,  she  plunged  on  again : — 

"  He,  at  least,  had  a  heart  and  conscience.  He  knew 
how  wrongfully  Moreau  had  been  accused, — that  money 
was  actually  needed  to  establish  his  claim.  It  would  all 
have  been  repaid  if  your  soldiers  had  not  forced  this 
wicked  war,  and — "  and  now  in  her  vehemence  her  eyes 
wero  flashing,  her  hs^nd  uplifted,  when,  all  on  a  sudden, 


286  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

the  portiere  was  raised  the  second  time,  and  there  at  the 
doorway  stood  the  former  inspector  general,  "  Black 
Bill."  At  sight  of  him  the  mad  flow  of  words  met  sud- 
den stop.  Down,  slowly  down,  came  the  clinched,  up- 
lifted hand.  Her  eyes,  glaring  as  were  Field's  a  moment 
agone,  were  fixed  in  awful  fascination  on  the  grizzled  face. 
Then  actually  she  recoiled  as  the  veteran  officer  stepped 
quietly  forward  into  the  room. 

'■  And  what?  "  said  he,  witli  placid  interest.  "  I  haven't 
heard  you  rave  in  many  a  moon,  Nanette.  You  are  your 
mother  over  again — without  your  mother's  excuse  for 
fury." 

But  a  wondrous  silence  had  fallen  on  the  group.  The 
girl  had  turned  rigid.  For  an  instant  not  a  move  was 
made,  and,  in  the  hush  of  all  but  throbbing  hearts,  the 
sound  of  the  trumpets  pealing  forth  the  last  notes  of 
tattoo  came  softly  through  the  outer  night. 

Then  sudden,  close  at  hand,  yet  muffled  by  double  door 
and  windows,  came  other  sounds — sounds  of  rush  and 
scurry, — excited  voices, — cries  of  halt !  halt ! — the  ring  of  a 
carbine, — a  yell  of  warning — another  shot,  and  Blake  and 
the  aide-de-camp  sprang  through  the  hallway  to  the  storm 
door  without.  Mrs.  Hay,  shuddering  with  dread,  ran  to 
the  door  of  her  husband's  chamber  beoynd  the  dining 
room.  She  was  gone  but  a  moment.  When  she  returned 
the  little  Ogalalla  maid,  trembling  and  wild-eyed,  had 
come  running  down  from  aloft.  The  general  had  fol- 
lowed into  the  lighted  hallway, — they  were  all  crowdhig 
there  by  this  time, — and  the  voice  of  Captain  Ray,  with 


A  SOLDIER  ENTANGLED  287 

just  a  tremor  of  excitement  about  it,  was  heard  at  the 
storm  door  on  the  porch,  in  explanation  to  the  chief. 

*'  Moreau,  sir !  Broke  guard  and  stabbed  Kennedy. 
The  second  shot  dropped  him.  He  wants  Fawn  Eyes, 
his  sister." 

A  scream  of  agony  rang  through  the  hall,  shrill  and 
piercing.     Then  the  wild  cry  followed : 

"  You  shall  not  hold  me !  Let  me  go  to  him,  I  say — 
I  am  his  wife !  " 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE    DEATH    SONG    OF    THE    SIOUX 

THAT  was  a  gruesome  night  at  Frayne.  Just  at 
tattoo  the  door  leading  to  the  little  cell  room 
had  been  thrown  open,  and  the  sergeant  of  the 
guard  bade  the  prisoners  come  forth, — all  warriors  of 
the  Ogalalla  band  and  foremost  of  their  number  was 
Eagle  Wing,  the  battle  leader.  Recaptured  by  Crabb  and 
his  men  after  a  desperate  flight  and  fight  for  liberty,  he 
had  apparently  been  planning  ever  since  a  second  essay 
even  more  desperate.  In  sullen  silence  he  had  passed  his 
days,  showing  no  sign  of  recognition  of  any  face  among 
his  guards  until  the  morning  Kennedy  appeared — all  mal- 
ice forgotten  now  that  his  would-be  slayer  was  a  helpless 
prisoner,  and  therefore  did  the  Irishman  greet  him  jovi- 
ally. "  That  man  would  knife  you  if  he  had  half  a 
chance,"  said  the  sergeant.     "  Watch  out  for  him !  " 

"  You  bet  I'll  watch  out,"  said  Kennedy,  never  dream- 
ing that,  despite  all  search  and  vigilance,  Moreau  had 
managed  to  obtain  and  hide  a  knife. 

In  silence  they  had  shuffled  forth  into  the  corridor. 

The  heavy  portal  swung  behind  them,  confining  the  other 

two.     Another  door  opened  into  the  guardroom  proper, 

28S 


THE  DEATH  SONG  OF  THE  SIOUX      289 

•where  stood  the  big,  red  hot  stove  and  where  waited  two 
blacksmiths  with  the  irons.  Once  in  the  guard  room 
every  window  was  barred,  and  members  of  the  guard, 
three  deep,  blocked  in  eager  curiosity  the  doorway  lead- 
ing to  the  outer  air.  In  the  corridor  on  one  side  stood 
three  infantry  soldiers,  with  fixed  bayonets.  On  the  other, 
facing  them,  three  others  of  the  guard.  Between  them 
shuffled  the  Sioux,  "  Wing  "  leading.  One  glance  at  the 
waiting  blacksmiths  was  enough.  With  the  spring  of  a 
tiger,  he  hurled  himself,  head  foremost  and  bending  low, 
straight  at  the  open  doorway,  and  split  his  way  through 
the  astonished  guards  like  center  rush  at  foot  ball,  scat- 
tering them  right  and  left ;  then  darted  round  the  corner 
of  the  guard-house,  agile  as  a  cat. 

And  there  was  Kennedy  confronting  him!  One  furi- 
ous lunge  he  made  with  gleaming  knife,  then  shot  like  an 
arrow,  straight  for  the  southward  bluff.  It  was  bad 
judgment.  He  trusted  to  speed,  to  dim  starlight,  to  bad 
aim,  perhaps ;  but  the  little  Irishman  dropped  on  one  knee 
and  the  first  bullet  tore  through  the  muscles  of  a  stalwart 
arm;  the  second,  better  aimed,  pierced  the  vitals.  Then 
they  were  on  him,  men  by  the  dozen,  in  another  instant, 
as  he  staggered  and  fell  there,  impotent  and  writhing. 

They  bore  him  to  the  cell  again, — the  hospital  was  too 
far, — and  Waller  and  his  aides  came  speedily  to  do  all  that 
surgery  could  accomplish,  but  he  cursed  them  back.  He 
raved  at  Ray,  who  entered,  leading  poor,  sobbing  little 
Fawn  Eyes,  and  demanded  to  be  left  alone  with  her. 
Waller  went  out  to  minister  to  Kennedy,  bleeding  fast, 


290  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

and  the  others  looked  to  Ray  for  orders  when  the  door 
was  once  more  opened  and  Blake  entered  with  Nanette. 

*'  By  the  general's  order,"  said  he,  in  brief  explanation, 
and  in  an  instant  she  was  on  her  knees  beside  the  dying 
Sioux.  There  and  thus  they  left  them.  Waller  said 
there  was  nothing  to  be  done.  The  junior  surgeon,  Tracy, 
— he  whom  she  had  so  fascinated  only  those  few  weeks 
before, — bent  and  whispered :  *'  Call  me  if  you  need.  I 
shall  remain  within  hearing."  But  there  came  no  call. 
At  taps  the  door  was  once  more  softly  opened  and  Tracy 
peered  within.  Fawn  Eyes,  rocking  to  and  fro,  was  sob- 
bing in  an  abandonment  of  grief.  Nanette,  face  down- 
ward, lay  prone  upon  a  stilled  and  lifeless  heart. 

Flint  and  his  escort  duly  went  their  way,  and  spread 
their  story  as  they  camped  at  Laramie  and  *'  the  Chug." 
The  general  tarried  another  week  at  Frayne.  There  was 
still  very  much  to  keep  him  there;  so,  not  until  he  and 
"  Black  Bill "  came  down  did  we  at  other  stations  learn 
the  facts.  The  general,  as  usual,  had  little  to  say.  The 
colonel  talked  for  both. 

A  woful  time,  it  seems,  they  had  had  with  poor  Nanette 
when  at  last  it  became  necessary  to  take  her  away  from 
her  dead  brave.  She  raged  and  raved  at  even  her  plead- 
ing aunt.  Defiant  of  them  all,  from  the  general  down, 
and  reckless  of  law  or  fact,  she  vowed  it  was  all  a  con- 
spiracy to  murder  Moreau  in  cold  blood.  They  gave  him 
the  knife,  she  declared,  although  it  later  developed  that 
she  had  tossed  it  through  the  open  window.  They  had 
given  him  the  chance  to  escape — the  sight  of  Kennedy, 


THE  DEATH  SONG  OF  THE  SIOUX      291 

"  who  had  striven  to  kill  him  twice  before,"  and  then  of  the 
blacksmiths,  with  their  degrading  shackles — all  just  to 
tempt  him  to  make  a  dash  for  freedom ; — just  as  they  had 
lured  and  murdered  Crazy  Horse — Crazy  Horse,  his  brave 
kinsman — not  ten  years  before, — ^then  had  placed  a  dead 
shot  on  the  path  to  life  and  liberty — a  man  who  killed  him 
in  cold  blood,  as  deliberately  planned.  These  were  her 
accusations,  and  that  story  took  strong  hold  in  certain 
circles  in  the  far  East,  where  "  love  of  truth  "  inspired  its 
widespread  publication,  but  not  its  contradiction  when  the 
facts  became  known.  The  same  conditions  obtain  to-day 
in  dealing  with  affairs  across  the  sea. 

Nanette  said  many  other  things  before  her  final  break- 
down ;  and  Hay  and  his  sorrowing  wife  found  their  load 
of  care  far  heaviest,  for  the  strain  of  Indian  blood,  now 
known  to  all,  had  steeled  the  soul  of  the  girl  against  the 
people  at  Fort  Frayne,  men  and  women  both — against 
none  so  vehemently  as  those  who  would  have  shown  her 
sympathy — none  so  malignantly  as  those  who  had  suffered 
for  her  sake. 

This  was  especially  true  of  Field.  In  the  mad  hope  of 
''getting  justice,"  as  she  termed  it,  for  the  dead,  she  had 
demanded  speech  of  the  general,  and,  in  presence  of 
"  Black  Bill "  and  the  surgeon,  he  had  given  her  a  hear- 
ing. It  proved  fatal  to  her  cause,  for  in  her  fury  at  what 
she  termed  "  the  triumph  of  his  foes,"  she  lost  all  sense 
of  right  or  reason,  and  declared  that  it  was  Field  who 
had  warned  Stabber's  band  and  sent  them  fleeing  to  unite 
with  Lame  Wolf, — Field  who  took  the  trader's  horses  and 


292  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

rode  by  night  with  Kennedy  to  warn  them  it  was  Webb's 
intention  to  surround  the  village  at  dawn  and  make  pris- 
oners of  the  men.  It  was  Field,  she  said,  who  furnished 
the  money  Moreau  needed  to  establish  his  claim  to  a  gold 
mine  in  the  Black  Hills,  the  ownership  of  which  would 
make  them  rich  and  repay  Field  a  dozen  times  over.  It 
was  Field  who  sought  to  protect  her  kindred  among  the 
Sioux  in  hopes,  she  said  it  boldly,  of  winning  her.  But 
the  general  had  heard  enough.  The  door  was  opened  and 
Ray  and  Blake  were  ushered  in.  The  former  briefly  told 
of  the  finding  of  her  note  in  Field's  room  the  night  the 
adjutant  was  so  mysteriously  missing.  The  note  itself 
was  held  forth  by  the  inspector  general  and  she  was  asked 
if  she  cared  to  have  it  opened  and  read  aloud.  Her  an- 
swer was  that  Field  was  a  coward,  a  dastard  to  betray  a 
woman  who  had  trusted  him. 

"  Oh,  he  didn't,"  said  Blake,  drily.  "  'Twas  just  the 
other  way.  He  couldn't  be  induced  to  open  his  head,  so 
his  friends  took  a  hand.  You  got  word  of  the  outbreak 
through  your  Indian  followers.  You  wrote  to  Field  and 
sent  the  note  by  Pete,  bidding  him  join  you  at  that  god- 
less hour,  telling  him  that  you  would  provide  the  horses 
and  that  you  must  ride  to  Stabber's  camp  to  see  Moreau 
for  the  last  time,  as  he  was  going  at  once  to  the  Black 
Hills.  You  iflade  Field  believe  he  was  your  half  brother, 
instead  of  what  he  was.  You  brought  Moreau  back  to 
the  post  and  took  something,  I  can't  say  what,  down  to 
him  from  Mr.  Hay's, — he  waiting  for  you  on  the  flats 
below  the  trader's  corral.     You  should  have  worn  yonr 


THE  DEATH  SONG  OF  THE  SIOUX      293 

moccasins,  as  well  as  a  divided  skirt,  that  night  instead 
of  French-heeled  bottines.  The  rest — others  can 
tell." 

The  others  were  Kennedy  and  the  recaptured,  half  re- 
calcitrant Pete;  the  latter  turned  state's  evidence.  Ken- 
nedy told  how  he  had  wandered  down  into  the  flats  after 
"  the  few  dhrinks  "  that  made  him  think  scornful  of  Sioux; 
of  his  encounter  with  Eagle  Wing,  his  rescue  by  Field  and 
a  girl  who  spoke  Sioux  like  a  native.  He  thought  it  was 
little  Fawn  Eyes  when  he  heard  her  speak,  and  until  he 
heard  this  lady;  then  he  understood.  He  had  been 
pledged  to  secrecy  by  the  lieutenant,  and  never  meant  to 
tell  a  soul,  but  when  he  heard  the  lie  the  lady  told  about 
the  lieutenant,  it  ended  any  promise. 

Then  Pete,  an  abject,  whining  wretch,  was  ushered  in, 
and  his  story,  when  dragged  out  by  the  roots,  was  worst 
of  all.  Poor  Mrs.  Hay!  She  had  to  hear  it,  for  they 
sent  for  her;  somebody  had  to  restrain  Nanette.  Pete 
said  he  had  known  Nanette  long  time,  ever  since  baby. 
So  had  Crapaud.  Yes,  and  they  had  known  Eagle  Wing, 
Moreau,  always — knew  his  father  and  mother.  Knew 
Nanette's  father  and  mother.  But  Black  Bill  interposed. 
No  need  to  go  into  these  particulars,  as  substantiating 
Mrs.  Hay  and  himself,  said  he.  "  The  lady  knows  per- 
fectly well  that  I  know  all  about  her  girlhood,"  so  Pete 
returned  to  modern  history.  Eagle  Wing,  it  seems,  came 
riding  often  in  from  Stabber's  camp  to  see  Nanette  by 
night,  and  "  he  was  in  heap  trouble,  always  heap  trouble, 
always  want  money,"  and  one  night  she  told  Pete  he  mu-st 


294  A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

come  with  her,  must  never  tell  of  it.  She  had  money,  she 
said,  her  own,  in  the  trader  s  safe,  but  the  door  was  too 
heavy,  she  couldn't  open  it,  even  though  she  had  the  key. 
She  had  opened  the  store  by  the  back  door,  then  came  to 
him  to  help  her  with  the  rest.  He  pulled  the  safe  door 
open,  he  said,  and  then  she  hunted  and  found  two  big 
letters,  and  took  them  to  the  house,  and  next  night  she 
opened  the  store  again,  and  he  pulled  open  the  safe,  and 
she  put  back  the  letters  and  sent  him  to  Mr.  Field's  back 
door  with  note,  and  then  over  to  saddle  Harney  and 
Dan,  and  "  bring  'em  out  back  way  from  stable." 
Then  later  she  told  him  Captain  Blake  had  Eagle  Wing's 
buckskin  pouch  and  letters,  and  they  must  get  them  or 
somebody  would  hang  Eagle  Wing,  and  she  kept  them 
going,  "  all  time  going,"  meeting  messengers  from  the 
Sioux  camps,  or  carrying  letters.  She  fixed  everything 
for  the  Sioux  to  come  and  capture  Hay  and  the  wagon ; — 
fixed  everything,  even  to  nearly  murdering  the  sentry  on 
Number  Six.  Pete  and  Spotted  Horse,  a  young  brave  of 
Stabber's  band,  had  compassed  that  attempted  rescue. 
She  would  have  had  them  kill  the  sentry,  if  need  be,  and 
the  reason  they  didn't  get  Wing  away  was  that  she  couldn't 
wait  until  the  sentries  had  called  off.  They  might  even 
then  have  succeeded,  only  her  pony  broke  away,  and  she 
clung  to  Eagle  Wing's  until  he — ^he  had  to  hit  her  to  make 
her  let  go. 

The  wild  girl,  in  a  fury  declared  it  false  from  end  to 
end.  The  poor  woman,  weeping  by  her  side,  bowed  her 
head  and  declared  it  doubtless  true. 


THE  DEATH  SONG  OF  THE  SIOUX      295 

Her  story, — Mrs.  Hay's, — was  saddest  of  all.  Her 
own  father  died  when  she  was  very,  very  young.  He  was 
a  French  Canadian  trader  and  traveller  who  had  left  them 
fairly  well  to  do.  Next  to  her  Indian  mother,  Mrs.  Hay 
had  loved  no  soul  on  earth  as  she  had  her  pretty  baby 
sister.  The  girls  grew  up  together.  The  younger,  petted 
and  spoiled,  fell  in  love  with  a  handsome,  reckless  young 
French  half  breed,  Jean  La  Fleur;  against  all  warnings, 
became  his  wife,  and  was  soon  bullied,  beaten  and  de- 
serted. She  lived  but  a  little  while,  leaving  to  her  more 
prosperous  and  level-headed  sister,  now  wedded  to  Mr. 
Hay,  their  baby  daughter,  also  named  Nanette,  and  by  her 
the  worthy  couple  had  done  their  very  best.  Perhaps  it 
would  have  been  wiser  had  they  sent  the  child  away  from 
all  association  with  the  Sioux,  but  she  had  lived  eight 
years  on  the  Laramie  in  daily  contact  with  them,  sharing 
the  Indian  sports  and  games,  loving  their  free  life,  and 
rebelling  furiously  when  finally  taken  East.  "  She  "  was 
the  real  reason  why  her  aunt  spent  so  many  months  of 
each  succeeding  year  away  from  her  husband  and  the 
frontier.  One  of  the  girl's  playmates  was  »  magnificent 
young  savage,  a  son  of  Crow  Killer,  the  famous  chief. 
The  father  was  killed  the  day  of  Crazy  Horse's  fierce 
assault  on  the  starving  force  of  General  Crook  at  Slim 
Buttes  in  ''j^,  and  good,  kind  missionary  people  speedily 
saw  promise  in  the  lad,  put  him  at  school  and  strove  to 
educate  him.  The  rest  they  knew.  Sometimes  at  eastern 
schools,  sometimes  with  Buffalo  Bill,  but  generally  out  of 
money  and  into  mischief.  Eagle  Wing  went  from  one 


296         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

year  to  another,  and  Nanette,  foolishly  permitted  to  meet 
him  again  in  the  East,  had  become  infatuated.  All  that 
art  and  education,  wealth,  travel  and  luxury  combined 
could  do,  was  done  to  wean  her  from  her  passionate 
adoration  of  this  superb  young  savage.  There  is  no 
fiercer,  more  intense,  devotion  than  that  the  Sioux  girl 
gives  the  warrior  who  wins  her  love.  She  becomes  his 
abject  slave.  She  will  labor,  he,  steal,  sin,  suffer,  die,  gladly 
die  for  him,  if  only  she  believes  herself  loved  in  turn, 
and  this  did  Nanette  more  than  believe,  and  belie\'ing, 
slaved  and  studied  between  his  irregular  appearances  that 
she  might  wheedle  more  money  from  her  aimt  to  lavish 
on  her  brave.  WTien  discovered  meeting  him  in  secret 
and  by  night,  she  was  locked  in  her  third  story  room  and 
tfaougfat  secure,  until  the  day  revealed  her  gone  by  way  of 
the  lightning  rod.  They  had  to  resort  to  more  stringent 
measures,  but  time  and  again  she  met  him,  imdetected 
until  too  late,  and  when  at  last  her  education  was  declared 
complete,  she  had  amazed  her  aimt  by  expressing  willing- 
ness to  go  to  Fra>-ne,  when  the  good  woman  thought  the 
objectionable  kinsman  abroad  with  Buffalo  BiD.  Untfl 
too  late,  Mrs.  Hay  knew  nothing  of  his  having  been  dis- 
charged and  of  his  preceding  them  to  the  West.  Then 
Nanette  b^ged  her  for  more  mone>',  because  he  was  in 
dreadful  trouble ; — had  stabbed  a  police  ofiBcer  at  Omaha, 
whose  people,  so  Moreau  said,  agreed  not  to  prosecute 
him  if  one  thousand  dollars  could  be  paid  at  once.  Hay's 
patience  had  been  exhausted.  He  had  firmly  refused  to 
COBtribute  aiwther  C€ot  to  settle  Moreau's  scrapes,  even 


THE  DEATH  SONG  OF  THE  SIOUX     297 

though  he  was  a  distant  kinsmaH  of  his  wife,  and  they 
both  were  fond  of  his  little  sister  Fawn  Eyes.  It  had 
never  occurred  to  Mrs.  Hay  that  Nan  could  steal  from  or 
plot  against  her  benefactors,  but  that  was  before  she 
dreamed  that  Nanette  had  become  the  Indian's  wife. 
After  that,  anything  might  happen.  "  If  she  could  do 
that  for  love  of  Moreau,"  said  she,  "  there  was  nothing 
she  could  not  do." 

And  it  would  seem  there  was  little  short  of  deliberate 
murder  she  had  not  done  for  her  Sioux  lover,  who  had 
rewarded  her  utter  self-sacrifice  by  a  savage  blow  with  a 
revolver  butt.  "  Poor  Nanette !  "  sobbed  Mrs.  Hay,  and 
"  Poor  Nanette ! "  said  all  Fort  Fra3me,  their  distrust  of 
her  buried  and  forgotten  as  she  lay,  refusing  herself  to 
everyone;  starving  herself  in  dull,  desperate  misery  in 
her  lonely  room.  Even  grim  old  **  Black  Bill,"  whom  she 
had  recognized  at  once, — Bill,  who  had  been  the  first  to 
confirm  Blake's  suspicions  as  to  her  identity, — had  pity 
and  compassion  for  her.  "It's  the  way  of  the  blood," 
said  Blake.    "  She  is 

"  •  Bred  oat  of  that  bkxxlj  strain 

That  haunted  us  in  oar  familiar  paths.' " 

**  She  could  do  no  diflFerent,"  said  the  general,  "  having 
fixed  her  love  on  him.  It's  the  strain  of  the  Sioux.  IVe 
call  her  ccmduct  criminal : — they  call  it  sublime." 

And  one  night,  while  decision  in  Nanette's  case  was 
still  pending,  and,  still  sdf-secluded,  she  hid  within  the 
traders  home,  refusing  speedi  with  anyone  but  little 
Fawn  Eyes,  a  sleighing  party  set  out  from  Fraync  for  a 


298        A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

spin  by  moonlight  along  the  frozen  Platte.  Wagon  bodies 
had  been  set  on  runners,  and  piled  with  hay.  The  young 
people  from  officers'  row,  with  the  proper  allowance  o\ 
matrons  and  elders,  were  stowed  therein,  and  tucked  in 
robes  and  furs,  Esther  Dade  among  them,  gentle  and 
responsive  as  ever,  yet  still  very  silent.  Field,  in  his  deep 
mourning,  went  nowhere.  He  seemed  humiliated  beyond 
words  by  his  connection  with  this  most  painful  affair. 
Even  the  general  failed  to  cheer  and  reassure  him.  He 
blamed  himself  for  everything  and  shrank  even  from  his 
friends.  They  saw  the  dim  glow  of  the  student  lamp 
in  his  quarters,  as  they  jingled  cheerily  away.  They  were 
coming  homeward,  toward  ten  o'clock.  The  moon  was 
shining  brilliantly  along  the  bold  heights  of  the  southern 
bank,  and,  insensibly,  chat  and  laughter  gradually  ceased 
as  they  came  again  in  sight  of  the  twinkling  lights  of 
Frayne,  and  glanced  aloft  at  a  new-made  scaffolding, 
standing  black  against  the  sky  at  the  crest  of  Fetterman 
Bluff.  "  Eagle  Wing  roosts  high,"  said  a  thoughtless 
youngster.  "  The  general  let  them  have  their  way  to  the 
last.     What's  that  ?  "  he  added,  with  sudden  stop. 

The  sleigh  had  as  suddenly  been  reined  in.  The  driver, 
an  Irish  trooper,  crossed  himself,  for,  on  the  hush  of  the 
breathless  winter  night,  there  rose  and  fell — shrill,  quav- 
ering, now  high,  now  low,  in  mournful  minor,  a  weird, 
desolate,  despairing  chant,  the  voice  of  a  heart-broken 
woman,  and  one  and  all  they  knew  at  once  it  was  Nanette, 
after  the  manner  of  her  mother's  people,  alone  on  the  lofty 
height,  alone  in  the  wintry  wilderness,  sobbing  out  her 


THE  DEATH  SONG  OF  THE  SIOUX      299 

grief  song  to  the  sleeping  winds,  mourning  to  the  last  her 
lost,  her  passionately  loved  brave. 

Then,  all  on  a  sudden,  it  ceased.  A  black  form  started 
from  under  the  scaffolding  to  the  edge  of  the  bluff.  Then 
again,  weird,  wild,  uncanny,iia  barbaric,  almost  savage 
strain  burst  from  the  lips  of  the  girl.  "  Mother  of 
Heavin ! "  cried  the  driver.  "  Can  no  one  shtop  that 
awful  keen.     It's  her  death  song  she's  singin' !  " 

Two  young  officers  sprang  from  the  sleigh,  but  at  the 
instant  another  cry  arose.  Another  form,  this  one  of 
horse  and  rider,  appeared  at  the  crest,  silhouetted  with 
the  girl's  against  the  stars.  They  saw  the  rider  leap  from 
saddle,  almost  within  arms'  length  of  the  singer ;  saw  her 
quickly  turn,  as  though,  for  the  first  time,  aware  of  an 
intruder.  Then  the  wailing  song  went  out  in  sudden 
scream  of  mingled  wrath,  hatred  and  despair,  and,  like 
the  Sioux  that  she  was  at  heart,  the  girl  made  one  mad 
rush  to  reach  the  point  of  bluff  where  was  a  sheer  descent 
of  over  eighty  feet.  A  shriek  of  dread  went  up  from  the 
crowded  sleigh ;  a  cry  of  rejoicing,  as  the  intruder  sprang 
and  clasped  her,  preventing  her  reaching  the  precipice. 
But  almost  instantly  followed  a  moan  of  anguish,  for 
slipping  at  the  crest,  together,  firmly  linked,  they  came 
rolling,  sliding,  shooting  .down  the  steep  incline  of  the 
frozen  bluff,  and  brought  up  with  stunning  force  among 
the  ice  blocks,  logs  and  driftwood  at  the  base.       ^r^^:.-fr.:-^i  L^oiiix 

They  bore  them  swiftly  homeward, — Field  senseless  and 
sorely  shaken, — Nanette's  fierce  spirit  slowly  drifting 
away  from  the  bruised  and  broken  tenement  held  there, 


300         A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

so  pityingly,  in  the  arms  of  Esther  Dade.  Before  the 
Christmas  fires  were  lighted  in  the  snowbound,  frontier 
fort,  they  had  laid  ali  that  was  mortal  of  the  brave,  de- 
luded girl  in  the  little  cemetery  of  Fort  Frayne,  her  solemn 
story  closed,  on  earth,  forever. 


L'ENVOI 

NEARLY  two  years  later,  with  the  old  regiment 
still  serving  along  the  storied  Platte,  they  were 
talking  of  her  one  moonlit  evening  at  the  flag- 
staff. The  band,  by  this  time  a  fixture  at  Frayne,  had 
been  playing  delightfully,  and  some  of  the  girls  and  young 
gallants  had  been  waltzing  on  the  Rays*  veranda.  A  few 
new  faces  were  there.  Two  faces,  well  known,  were 
missing, — those  of  Esther  Dade  and  Beverly  Field.  The 
latter  had  never  been  the  same  man  since  the  tragic  events 
that  followed  so  closely  on  the  heels  of  the  Lame  Wolf 
campaign.  Wounds  had  slowly  healed.  Injuries,  physi- 
cal, were  well  nigh  forgotten ;  but,  mentally,  he  had  been 
long  a  sufferer.  For  months  after  the  death  of  Nanette, 
even  when  sufficiently  restored  to  be  on  duty,  he  held 
shrinkingly  aloof  from  post  society.  Even  Webb,  Blake 
and  Ray  were  powerless  to  pull  him  out  of  his  despond. 
He  seemed  to  feel, — indeed  he  said  so,  that  his  brief  en- 
tanglement with  that  strange,  fascinating  girl  had  clouded 
his  soldier  name  for  all  time.  To  these  stanch  friends  and 
advisers  he  frankly  told  the  whole  story,  and  they,  in  turn, 

had  told  it  to  the  general,  to  the  colonel  commanding  the 

301 


302  'A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX 

regiment  and  to  those  whose  opinions  they  most  valued; 
but  Field  could  speak  of  it  to  none  others.  Frankly  he 
admitted  that  from  the  moment  he  met  the  girl  he  fell 
under  the  influence  of  a  powerful  fascination.  Within 
twenty-four  hours  of  his  return  from  the  Laramie  trip 
they  were  riding  together,  and  during  that  ride  she  asked 
to  be  taken  to  Stabber^s  village,  and  there  had  talked  long 
with  that  magnificent  young  Sioux.  Later,  Field  sur- 
prised her  in  tears,  and  then  she  told  him  a  pitiful  tale. 
Eagle  Wing  had  been  educated,  she  said,  by  her  aunt  and 
uncle, — was  indeed  their  nephew  and  her  own  cousin. 
He  had  been  wild  and  had  given  them  much  trouble,  and 
her  aunt  was  in  bitter  distress  over  his  waywardness.  It 
was  to  plead  with  him  that  she,  Nanette,  had  gone. 
"  Moreau  "  had  been  taught  mining  and  mineralogy,  it 
seems,  and  declared  that  he  had  "  located  "  a  most  prom- 
ising mine  in  the  Black  Hills.  He  could  buy  off  every 
claim  if  he  had  a  thousand  dollars,  and  the  mine  might  be 
worth  millions.  Hay  pooh-poohed  the  story.  Mrs.  Hay 
could  not  persuade  him..  Then  "  Moreau  "  became  threat- 
ening. He  would  join  the  hostiles,  he  swore,  if  his  aunt 
would  not  help  him.  Indeed,  and  here  Field's  young  face 
burned  with  shame,  Nanette  told  him  that  she  understood 
that  he.  Field,  was  an  only  son  who  might  inherit  wealth 
in  days  to  come,  and  could  draw  upon  his  father  now  for 
any  reasonable  sum ;  and,  within  the  week  of  his  meeting 
her,  he  was  on  the  point  of  offering  everything  she  needed, 
but  that  he  disbelieved  the  Indian's  story.  Then,  one 
night,  there  came  a  note  begging  him  to  meet  her  at  once. 


L'ENVOI  303 

She  had  a  dreadful  message,  she  said,  from  "  Moreau." 
The  fellow  had  frequently  been  prowling  about  the  tra- 
der's during  the  dark  hours,  and  now  she  was  afraid  of 
him,  yet  must  see  him,  and  see  him  at  once,  even  if  she  had 
to  ride  to  Stabber's  camp.  Field's  eyes  were  blinded  and 
he  went.  Hay's  horses  were  ready  beyond  the  corral,  and 
she  rode  astride  on  one  of  Hay's  own  saddles.  They 
found  **  Moreau  "  awaiting  them  at  the  ford,  and  there 
was  a  scene  Field  could  not  understand,  for  they  spoke  in 
the  Sioux  language.  That  night  it  was  that,  all  in  tears 
at  the  Indian's  obduracy,  she  owned  that  he  was  her  own 
brother,  not  merely  a  cousin,  and  together  they  had  all 
gone  back  toward  Frayne.  "  Moreau  "  was  to  wait  on  the 
flats  until  she  could  return  to  the  house.  She  had  been 
striving  to  get  him  to  make  certain  promises,  she  said,  con- 
tingent on  her  giving  him  something  from  her  own  means. 
Field  said  he  remonstrated  with  her  to  the  utmost,  but 
she  told  him  no  woman  with  Sioux  blood  in  her  veins 
ever  deserted  a  brother — or  lover.  And  so  she  had  re- 
turned with  a  packet,  presumably  of  money,  and  ther^ 
they  found  the  Indian  clinched  with  Kennedy.  Kennedy 
was  rescued  in  the  nick  of  time,  and  pledged  to  silence. 
The  Indian  rode  away  triumphant.  Nanette  climbed  back 
to  her  window,  exhausted,  apparently,  by  her  exertions, 
and  Field  started  for  his  quarters,  only  to  find  the  entire 
garrison  astir.     The  rest  they  knew. 

Asked  how  she  came  to  know  of  the  money  in  the 
trader's  safe,  he  said  no  secret  had  been  made  of  it  by 
either  Hay  or  him.     She  had  asked  him  laughingly  about 


304         A  DAUGHTER  OP  THE  SIOUX 

his  quarrel  with  Wilkins,  and  seemed  deeply  interested  in 
all  the  details  of  subaltern  life.  Either  Hay  or  he,  for- 
tunately, could  have  made  good  the  missing  sum,  even 
had  most  of  it  not  been  found  amongst  Stabber's  plunder. 
Field  had  never  seen  her  again  until  the  night  the  general 
took  him  to  confront  her  at  the  Hays',  and,  all  too  late, 
had  realized  how  completely  she  had  lured  and  used  him. 
In  pride,  honor,  self-respect,  he  had  been  sorely  wounded, 
and,  even  when  assured  that  the  general  attached  no  blame 
to  him,  and  that  his  name  was  no  longer  involved,  he 
would  have  resigned  his  commission  and  quit  the  service 
had  it  not  been  for  these  soldiers  three,  Webb,  Blake  and 
Ray.  They  made  him  see  that,  all  the  more  because  his 
father's  death  had  left  him  independent — sole  master  of 
quite  a  valuable  property — he  must  stick  to  the  sword  and 
live  down  the  possible  stain. 

And  stay  he  did,  refusing  even  a  chance  to  go  abroad 
the  following  spring,  and  devoting  himself  assiduously  to 
his  duties,  although  he  shrank  from  society.  They  made 
him  sometimes  spend  a  quiet  evening  at  Ray's  or  Blake's, 
where  twice  Miss  Dade  was  found.  But  that  young  lady 
was  quick  to  see  that  her  hostess  had  been  scheming,  as 
loving  women  will.  And  then,  when  he  went  hoping  to 
see  her,  yet  half  afraid,  she  came  no  more.  They  could 
not  coax  her.  The  early  spring  had  taken  him  forth  on 
long  campaign.  The  ensuing  fall  had  taken  her  to  the 
far  distant  East,  for  gallant  old  Dade  was  breaking  down. 
The  doctors  sent  him  on  prolonged  sick  leave.  Then  was 
Fort  Frayne  indeed  a  desolate  post  to  Beverly  Field,  and 


L'ENVOI  305 

when  midwinter  came,  and  with  it  the  news  that  Dade 
had  but  little  while  to  live,  he  took  counsel  with  Ray,  and 
a  month's  leave,  not  much  of  which  was  spent  in  the  South. 
The  old  regiment  was  represented  at  the  sad  and  solemn 
little  ceremony  when  the  devoted  husband,  father  and 
fellow  soldier  was  laid  at  rest. 

Nor  was  Field  a  happier  man  when  he  rejoined  from 
leave,  and  they  all  thought  they  knew  why.  Letters  came, 
black-bordered,  with  Esther's  superscription,  sometimes, 
but  only  for  Mrs.  Blake  or  Mrs.  Ray.  There  was  never 
one  for  Field.  And  so  a  second  summer  came  and  went 
and  a  second  September  was  ushered  in,  and  in  the  flood 
of  the  full  moonlight  there  was  again  music  and  dancing 
at  Fort  Frayne,  but  not  for  Field,  not  for  Esther  Dade. 
They  were  all  talking  of  Nanette,  Daughter  of  the  Da- 
kotas,  and  Esther,  Daughter  of  the  Regiment,  as  they 
called  her  in  her  father's  Corps,  and  the  mail  came  late 
from  Laramie,  dnd  letters  were  handed  round  as  tattoo 
sounded,  and  Mrs.  Blake,  eagerly  scanning  a  black-bor- 
dered page,  was  seen  suddenly  to  run  in  doors,  her  eyes 
brimming  over  with  tears. 

Later  that  night  Hogan  tapped  at  Field's  front  door 
and  asked  would  the  lieutenant  step  over  to  Mrs.  Ray's 
a  minute,  and  he  went. 

"  Read  that,"  said  Mrs.  Ray,  pointing  to  a  paragraph 
on  the  third  page  of  the  black-bordered  missive  that  had 
been  too  much  for  Mrs.  Blake.     And  he  read : 

•*  Through  it  all  Esther  has  been  my  sweetest  comfort,  but  now 
1  must  lose  her,  too.    Our  means  are  so  straitened  that  she  has 


3o6         A  DAUGHTER  OP  THE  SlOUX 

made  me  see  the  necessity.  Hard  as  it  is,  I  must  yield  to  her  fof 
the  help  that  it  may  bring.  She  has  been  studying  a  year  and  is 
to  join  the  staff  of  trained  nurses  at  St.  Luke's  the  first  o 
October." 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence  in  the  little  army  par- 
lor. Field's  hands  were  trembling,  his  face  was  filled 
with  trouble.  She  knew  he  would  speak  his  heart  to  her 
at  last,  and  speak  he  did : — 

"  All  these  months  that  she  has  been  studying  I've  beem 
begging  and  pleading,  Mrs.  Ray.  You  know  what  I  went 
for  last  winter, — all  to  no  purpose.  I'm  going  again  now» 
if  I  have  to  stay  a  patient  at  St.  Luke's  to  coax  her  out 
of  it." 

But  not  until  Christmas  came  the  welcome  *'  wire : " 

Patient  discharged.    Nurse  finally  accepts  new  engagement. 


SIMIS 


